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HOUGHTON,   MIFFLIN    &   CO. 
BOSTON,  NEW  YORK,  AND  CHICAGO. 


A  BIRD-LOVER  IN   THE 
WEST 


BY 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER 


BOSTON  AND   NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON,  MIFFLIN  AND   COMPANY 

Cfee  ritocwiUf  press,  Cambridge 

1900 


Copyright,  1894, 
BY  H.  M.  MILLER. 

All  rights  reserved. 


The  Riverside  Press,  Cambridge,  Mass.,  U.S.A. 
Electrotyped  and  Printed  by  H.  O.  Houghton  &  Co. 


INTRODUCTORY. 


THE  studies  in  this  volume  were  all  made,  as 
the  title  indicates,  in  the  West;  part  of  them 
in  Colorado  (1891),  in  Utah  (1893),  and  the 
remainder  (1892)  in  what  I  have  called  "  The 
Middle  Country,"  being  Southern  Ohio,  and 
West  only  relatively  to  New  England  and  New 
York,  where  most  of  my  studies  have  been 
made. 

Several  chapters  have  appeared  in  the  "  Atlan- 
tic Monthly  "  and  other  magazines,  and  in  the 
"  Independent  "  and  "  Harper's  Bazar,"  while 
others  are  now  for  the  first  tune  published. 

OLIVE  THORNE  MILLER. 


CONTENTS. 


IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

nun 
I.    CAMPING  IK  COLORADO 3 

II.      IN    THE    COTTONWOODS 17 

Western  wood-pewee.       Contopus    richard- 

sonii. 
Western    house   wren.       Troglodytes  aedon 

aztecus. 
Towhee.      Pipilo  erythrophthalmus. 

III.  AN  UPKOAB  OF  SONG 32 

Western    meadow-lark.       Sturnella    magna 

neglecta. 

Horned  lark.     Otocoris  alpestris  leucolcema. 
Yellow  warbler.     Dendroica  cestiva. 
Western  wood-pewee.      Contopus     richard- 

sonii. 

Humming-bird.     Troc.hilus  colubris. 
Long-tailed  chat.   Icteria  virens  longicauda. 

IV.  THE  TRAGEDY  OF  A  NEST 42 

Long-tailed  chat.     Icteria  virens  longicauda. 

V.     A  FEAST  OF  FLOWERS 52 

VI.    A  CINDERELLA  AMONG  FLOWERS 60 

VII.    CLIFF-DWELLERS  IN  THE  CANON 70 

Canon  wren.    Catherpes  mexicanus  conspersus. 
American  dipper.     Cinclus  mexicanus. 


Vl  CONTENTS. 

IN  THE   MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

VIII.    AT  FOUB  O'CLOCK  IN  THE  MORNING  ....    95 
Purple  graekle.     Quiscalus  quiscda. 
Mourning  dove.     Zenaidura  macroura. 
Bed-headed  woodpecker.     Melanerpes  ery- 

throcephalus. 

Blue  jay.     Cyanocitta  cristata. 
Cardinal  grosbeak.     Cardinalis  cardinalis. 
American  robin.    Merula  migratoria. 
Golden-wing  woodpecker.    Colaptes  auratus. 
House  sparrow.     Passer  domesticus. 

IX.    THE  LITTLE  REDBIKDS 113 

Cardinal  grosbeak.     Cardinalis  cardinalis. 
House  sparrow.     Passer  domesticus, 

X.    THE  CABDINAL'S  NEST 119 

Cardinal  grosbeak.      Cardinalis  cardinalis. 
Bobolink.     Dolichonyx  oryzivorus. 
Meadow-lark.    Sturnella  magna. 

XL    LITTLE  BOY  BLUE 126 

Blue  jay.     Cyanocitta  cristata. 

XII.  STOBT  OF  THE  NESTLINGS 136 

Blue  jay.     Cyanocitta  cristata. 

XIII.  BLUE  JAY  MANNERS 144 

Blue  jay.     Cyanocitta  cristata. 

XIV.  THE  GBEAT  CAROLINIAN 154 

Great  Carolina  wren.      Thryothorus  ludovi- 

cianus. 

Yellow-billed  cuckoo.    Coccyzus  americanus. 
Crested  flycatcher.     Myiarchus  crinitus. 
XV.    THE  WBENLINGS  APPEAB 172 


CONTENTS.  Vli 

Great  Carolina  wren.      Thryothorus  ludovi- 
cianus. 

XVI.    THE  APPLE-TREE  NEST 183 

Orchard  oriole.     Icterus  spurius. 

XVII.    CEDAR-TREE  LITTLE  FOLK 194 

Mourning  dove.     Zenaidura  macroura. 

BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

XVIII.    IN  A  PASTURE 207 

Louisiana  tanager.     Piranga  ludoviciana. 
Green-tailed  towhee.     Pipilo  chlorurus. 
Magpie.     Pica  pica  hudsonica, 

XIX.    THE  SECRET  OF  THE  WILD  ROSE  PATH     .     .    .231 
Long-tailed  chat.    Icteria  virens  longicauda. 
Western  robin.   Merula  migratoria  propinqua. 
Black-headed  grosbeak.     Hdbia  melanoceph- 
ala. 

XX.    ON  THE  LAWN 259 

Lazuli-painted  £nch.     Passerina  amaena. 
Broad-tailed  humming-bird.    Trochilus  pla- 

tycercus. 
House  sparrow.    Passer  domesticus. 


IN  THE  EOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 


Trust  me,  't  is  something  to  be  cast 
Face  to  face  with  one's  self  at  last, 
To  be  taken  out  of  the  fuss  and  strife, 
The  endless  clatter  of  plate  and  knife, 

The  bore  of  books,  and  the  bores  of  the  street, 
From  the  singular  mess  we  agree  to  call  Life. 

And  to  be  set  down  on  one's  own  two  feet 
So  nigh  to  the  great  warm  heart  of  God, 

You  almost  seem  to  feel  it  beat 
Down  from  the  sunshine  and  up  from  the  sod ; 

To  be  compelled,  as  it  were,  to  notice 
All  the  beautiful  changes  and  chances 
Through  which  the  landscape  flits  and  glances, 
And  to  see  how  the  face  of  common  day 
Is  written  all  over  with  tender  histories. 

JAMES  KUSSELL  LOWELL. 


A  BIRD-LOVER  IN  THE  WEST. 


CAMPING  IN  COLORADO. 

THIS  chronicle  of  happy  summer  days  with  the 
birds  and  the  flowers,  at  the  foot  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains,  begins  in  the  month  of  May,  in  the 
year  eighteen  hundred  and  ninety-two. 

As  my  train  rolled  quietly  out  of  Jersey  City 
late  at  night,  I  uttered  a  sigh  of  gratitude  that 
I  was  really  off ;  that  at  last  I  could  rest.  Up 
to  the  final  moment  I  had  been  hurried  and 
worried,  but  the  instant  I  was  alone,  with  my 
"  section  "  to  myself,  I  "  took  myself  in  hand," 
as  is  my  custom. 

At  the  risk  of  seeming  to  stray  very  far  from 
my  subject,  I  want  at  this  point  to  say  some- 
thing about  rest,  the  greatly  desired  state  that 
all  busy  workers  are  seeking,  with  such  varying 
success. 

A  really  re-creative  recreation  I  sought  for 
years,  and 

"  I  Ve  found  some  wisdom  in  my  quest 
That 's  richly  worth  retailing," 


4  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

and  that  cannot  be  too  often  repeated,  or  too 
urgently  insisted  upon.  What  is  imperatively 
needed,  the  sole  and  simple  secret  of  rest,  is 
this :  To  go  to  our  blessed  mother  Nature,  and 
to  go  with  the  whole  being,  mind  and  heart  as 
well  as  body.  To  deposit  one 's  physical  frame 
in  the  most  secret  and  sacred  "garden  of  de- 
lights," and  at  the  same  time  allow  the  mind 
to  be  filled,  and  the  thoughts  to  be  occupied, 
with  the  concerns  of  the  world  we  live  in  year 
after  year,  is  utterly  useless ;  for  it  is  not  the 
external,  but  the  internal  man  that  needs  re- 
creation ;  it  is  not  the  body,  but  the  spirit  that 
demands  refreshment  and  relief  from  the  wear- 
ing cares  of  our  high-pressure  lives.  "  It  is  of 
no  use,"  says  a  thoughtful  writer,  "  to  carry  my 
body  to  the  woods,  unless  I  get  there  myself." 

Let  us  consult  the  poets,  our  inspired  teachers, 
on  this  subject.     Says  Lowell,  — 

"  In  June  't  is  good  to  lie  beneath  a  tree 
While  the  blithe  season  comforts  every  sense, 
Steeps  all  the  brain  in  rest,  and  heals  the  heart, 
Brimming  it  o'er  with  sweetness  nnawares, 
Fragrant  and  silent  as  that  rosy  snow 
Wherewith  the  pitying  apple-tree  fills  up 
And  tenderly  lines  some  last-year's  robin's  nest." 

And  our  wise  Emerson,   in  his   strong   and 
wholesome,  if  sometimes  rugged  way,  — 

"  Quit  thy  friends  as  the  dead  in  doom, 
And  build  to  them  a  final  tomb. 


HOW  TO  FIND  REST.  5 

Behind  thee  leave  thy  merchandise, 
Thy  churches  and  thy  charities. 

Enough  for  thee  the  primal  mind 

That  flows  in  streams  —  that  breathes  in  wind." 

Even  the  gentle  Wordsworth,  too;  read  his 
exquisite  sonnet,  beginning,  — 

"  The  world  is  too  much  with  us ;  late  and  soon, 
Getting  and  spending,  we  lay  waste  our  powers." 

All  recognize  that  it  is  a  mental  and  spiritual 
change  that  is  needed. 

With  the  earnest  desire  of  suggesting  to  tired 
souls  a  practicable  way  of  resting,  I  will  even 
give  a  bit  of  personal  history;  I  will  tell  the 
way  in  which  I  have  learned  to  find  re-cre- 
ation in  nature. 

When  I  turn  my  back  upon  my  home,  I 
make  a  serious  and  determined  effort  to  leave 
behind  me  all  cares  and  worries.  As  my  train, 
on  that  beautiful  May  evening,  passed  beyond 
the  brick  and  stone  walls,  and  sped  into  the 
open  country,  and  I  found  myself  alone  with 
night,  I  shook  off,  as  well  as  I  was  able,  all  my 
affairs,  all  my  interests,  all  my  responsibilities, 
leaving  them  in  that  busy  city  behind  me,  where 
a  few  burdens  more  or  less  would  not  matter 
to  anybody.  With  my  trunks  checked,  and  my 
face  turned  toward  the  far-off  Rocky  Mountains, 
I  left  the  whole  work-a-<Jay  world  behind  me, 
departing  —  so  far  as  possible  —  a  liberated 


6  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

soul,  with  no  duties  excepting  to  rejoice  and  to 
recruit.  This  is  not  an  easy  thing  to  do ;  it  is 
like  tearing  apart  one's  very  life;  but  it  can 
be  done  by  earnest  endeavor,  it  has  been  done, 
and  it  is  a  charm  more  potent  than  magic  to 
bring  restoration  and  re-creation  to  the  brain 
and  nerve-weary  worker. 

To  insure  any  measure  of  success  I  always  go 
alone ;  one  familiar  face  would  make  the  effort 
of  no  avail ;  and  I  seek  a  place  where  I  am  a 
stranger,  so  that  my  ordinary  life  cannot  be 
recalled  to  me.  When  I  reach  my  temporary 
home  I  forget,  or  at  least  ignore,  my  notions 
as  to  what  I  shall  eat  or  drink,  or  how  I  shall 
sleep.  I  take  the  goods  the  gods  provide,  and 
adjust  myself  to  them.  Even  these  little  things 
help  one  out  of  his  old  ways  of  thought  and  life. 
To  still  further  banish  home  concerns,  I  mark 
upon  my  calendar  one  week  before  the  day  I 
shall  start  for  home,  and  sternly  resolve  that  not 
until  I  reach  that  day  will  I  give  one  thought  to 
my  return,  but  will  live  as  though  I  meant  to 
stay  always.  I  take  no  work  of  any  sort,  and  I 
banish  books,  excepting  a  few  poets  and  studies 
of  nature* 

Such  is  the  aim  of  my  honest  and  earnest 
striving ;  that  I  do  not  quite  reach  my  goal  is 
merely  to  say  I  am  human.  Letters  from  home 
and  friends  will  drag  me  back  to  old  interests, 


A  SATISFACTOEY  RESULT.  1 

and  times  will  come,  in  sleepless  nights  and 
unguarded  moments,  when  the  whole  world  of 
old  burdens  and  cares  sweep  in  and  overwhelm 
me.  But  I  rouse  my  will,  and  resolutely,  with 
all  my  power,  push  them  back,  refuse  to  enter- 
tain them  for  a  moment. 

The  result,  even  under  these  limitations,  is 
eminently  satisfactory.  Holding  myself  in  this 
attitude  of  mind,  I  secure  a  change  almost  as 
complete  as  if  I  stepped  out  of  my  body  and  left 
it  resting,  while  I  refreshed  myself  at  the  foun- 
tain of  Hfe.  A  few  weeks  in  the  country  make 
me  a  new  being ;  all  my  thoughts  are  turned  into 
fresh  channels ;  the  old  ruts  are  smoothed  over, 
if  not  obliterated ;  nerves  on  the  strain  all  the 
year  have  a  chance  to  recreate  themselves ;  old 
worries  often  weaken  and  fade  away. 

The  morning  after  I  left  home  that  balmy 
evening  in  May  dawned  upon  me  somewhere  in 
western  New  York,  and  that  beautiful  day  was 
passed  in  speeding  through  the  country,  and 
steadily  getting  farther  and  farther  from  work 
and  care. 

And  so  I  went  on,  day  after  day,  night  after 
night,  till  I  entered  Kansas,  which  was  new  to 
me.  By  that  time  I  had  succeeded  in  banishing 
to  the  farthest  corner  of  my  memory,  behind 
closed  and  locked  doors,  all  the  anxieties,  all  the 
perplexities  and  problems,  all  the  concerns,  in 


8  IN  THE  BOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

fact,  of  my  home  life.  I  was  like  a  newly  cre- 
ated soul,  fresh  and  eager  to  see  and  enjoy 
everything.  I  refused  the  morning  papers;  I 
wished  to  forget  the  world  of  strife  and  crime, 
and  to  get  so  into  harmony  with  the  trees  and 
flowers,  the  brooks  and  the  breezes,  that  I  would 
realize  myself 

"  Kith  and  kin  to  every  •wild-born  thing  that  thrills  and  blows." 

In  one  word,  I  wished  as  nearly  as  possible  to 
walk  abroad  out  of  my  hindering  body  of  clay. 

I  looked  out  of  the  windows  to  see  what  the 
Cyclone  State  had  to  give  me.  It  offered  flow- 
ers and  singing  birds,  broad  fields  of  growing 
grain,  and  acres  of  rich  black  soil  newly  turned 
up  to  the  sun.  Everything  was  fresh  and  per- 
fect, as  if  just  from  the  hands  of  its  maker ;  it 
seemed  the  paradise  of  the  farmer. 

From  the  fertile  fields  and  miles  of  flowers 
the  train  passed  to  bare,  blossomless  earth ; 
from  rich  soil  to  rocks ;  from  Kansas  to  Col- 
orado. That  part  of  the  State  which  appeared 
in  the  morning  looked  like  a  vast  body  of 
hardly  dry  mud,  with  nothing  worth  mentioning 
growing  upon  it.  Each  little  gutter  had  worn 
for  itself  a  deep  channel  with  precipitous  sides, 
and  here  and  there  a  great  section  had  sunken, 
as  though  there  was  no  solid  foundation.  Soon, 
however,  the  land  showed  inclination  to  draw 
itself  up  into  hills,  tiny  ones  with  sharp  peaks, 


A  PERFECT  NOOK.  9 

as  though  preparing  for  mountains.  Before 
long  they  retreated  to  a  distance  and  grew  big- 
ger, and  at  last,  far  off,  appeared  the  mountains, 
overtopping  all  one  great  white  peak,  the 

"  Giver  of  gold,  king  of  eternal  hills." 

A  welcome  awaited  me  in  the  summer  home 
of  a  friend  at  Colorado  Springs,  in  the  pres- 
ence of  the  great  Cheyenne  Range,  with  the 
snow-cap  of  Pike's  Peak  ever  before  me.  Four 
delightful  days  I  gave  to  friendship,  and  then  I 
sought  and  found  a  perfect  nook  for  rest  and 
study,  in  a  cottonwood  grove  on  the  banks  of 
the  Minnelowan  (or  Shining  Water).  This  is  a 
mad  Colorado  stream  which  is  formed  by  the 
junction  of  the  North  and  South  Cheyenne 
Canon  brooks,  and  comes  tumbling  down  from 
the  Cheyenne,  rushing  and  roaring  as  if  it  had 
the  business  of  the  world  on  its  shoulders,  and 
must  do  it  man-fashion,  with  confusion  and 
noise  enough  to  drown  all  other  sounds. 

Imagine  a  pretty,  one-story  cottage,  set  down 
in  a  grove  of  cottonwood-trees,  with  a  gnarly 
oak  and  a  tall  pine  here  and  there,  to  give  it 
character,  and  surrounded  as  a  hen  by  her 
chickens,  by  tents,  six  or  eight  in  every  con- 
ceivable position,  and  at  every  possible  angle 
except  a  right  angle.  Add  to  this  picture  the 
sweet  voices  of  birds,  and  the  music  of  water 
rushing  and  hurrying  over  the  stones ;  let  your 


10  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

glance  take  in  on  one  side  the  grand  outlines 
of  Cheyenne  Mountain, 

"  Made  doubly  sacred  by  the  poet's  pen 
And  poet's  grave," 

and  on  the  other  the  rest  of  the  range,  over- 
looked by  Pike's  Peak,  fourteen  thousand  feet 
higher  than  the  streets  of  New  York.  Do  this, 
and  you  will  come  as  near  to  realizing  Camp 
Harding  as  one  can  who  is  hundreds  of  miles 
away  and  has  never  seen  a  Colorado  camp. 

Do  not  think,  however,  that  such  camps  are 
common,  even  in  that  land  of  outdoors,  where 
tents  are  open  for  business  in  the  streets  of  the 
towns,  and  where  every  householder  sets  up  his 
own  canvas  in  his  yard,  for  the  invalids  to  sleep 
in,  from  June  to  November.  The  little  settlement 
of  tents  was  an  evolution,  the  gradual  growth 
of  the  tent  idea  in  the  mind  of  one  comfort- 
loving  woman.  She  went  there  seven  or  eight 
years  before,  bought  a  grove  under  the  shadow 
of  Cheyenne,  put  up  a  tent,  and  passed  her  first 
summer  thus.  The  next  year,  and  several  years 
thereafter,  she  gradually  improved  her  transient 
abode  in  many  ways  that  her  womanly  taste  sug- 
gested, —  as  a  wooden  floor,  a  high  base-board, 
partitions  of  muslin  or  cretonne,  door  and  win- 
dows of  wire  gauze.  The  original  dwelling  thus 
step  by  step  grew  to  a  framed  and  rough-plas- 
tered house,  with  doors  and  windows  en  regie. 


LIFE  IN  A  TENT.  11 

Grouped  picturesquely  around  the  house,  how- 
ever, were  some  of  the  most  unique  abiding- 
places  in  Colorado.  On  the  outside  they  were 
permanent  tents  with  wooden  foundations ;  on 
the  inside  they  were  models  of  comfort,  with 
regular  beds  and  furniture,  rugs  on  the  floor, 
gauzy  window  curtains,  drapery  wardrobes,  and 
even  tiny  stoves  for  cool  mornings  and  evenings. 
They  combined  the  comforts  of  a  house  with 
the  open  air  and  delightful  freshness  of  a  tent, 
where  one  might  hear  every  bird  twitter,  and  see 
the  dancing  leaf  shadows  in  the  moonlight. 
Over  the  front  platform  the  canvas  cover  ex- 
tended to  form  an  awning,  and  a  wire-gauze 
door,  in  addition  to  one  of  wood,  made  them 
airy  or  snug  as  the  weather  demanded. 

The  restfulness  craved  by  the  weary  worker 
was  there  to  be  had  for  both  soul  and  body,  if 
one  chose  to  take  it.  One  might  swing  in  a 
hammock  all  day,  and  be  happy  watching  "  the 
clouds  that  cruise  the  sultry  sky" — a  sky  so 
blue  one  never  tires  of  it ;  or  beside  the  brook 
he  might  "  lie  upon  its  banks,  and  dream  him- 
self away  to  some  enchanted  ground."  Or  he 
might  study  the  ever -changing  aspect  of  the 
mountains, — their  dreamy,  veiled  appearance, 
with  the  morning  sun  full  upon  them;  their 
deep  violet  blueness  in  the  evening,  with  the 
sun  behind  them,  and  the  mystery  of  the  moon- 


12  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

light,  which  "  sets  them  far  off  in  a  world  of 
their  own,"  as  tender  and  unreal  as  mountains 
in  a  dream. 

He  might  do  all  these  things,  but  he  is  far 
more  likely  to  become  excited,  and  finally  be- 
witched by  guide-books,  and  photographs,  and 
talk  all  about  him  of  this  or  that  canon,  this 
or  that  pass,  the  Garden  of  the  Gods,  Manitou, 
the  Seven  Sisters'  Falls,  the  grave  of  "  H.  H. ; " 
and  unless  a  fool  or  a  philosopher,  before  he 
knows  it  to  be  in  the  full  swing  of  sight-seeing, 
and  becoming  learned  in  the  ways  of  burros, 
the  "  Ship  of  the  Rockies,"  so  indispensable, 
and  so  common  that  even  the  babies  take  to 
them. 

This  traveler  will  climb  peaks,  and  drive  over 
nerve-shaking  roads,  a  steep  wall  on  one  side 
and  a  frightful  precipice  on  the  other ;  he  will 
toil  up  hundreds  of  steps,  and  go  quaking  down 
into  mines  ;  he  will  look,  and  admire,  and  trem- 
ble, till  sentiment  is  worn  to  threads,  purse  de- 
pleted, and  body  and  mind  alike  a  wreck.  For 
this  sort  of  a  traveler  there  is  no  rest  in  Col- 
orado ;  there  always  remains  another  mountain 
to  thrill  him,  another  canon  to  rhapsodize  over ; 
to  one  who  is  greedy  of  "  sights,"  the  tameness 
of  Harlem,  or  the  mud  flats  of  Canarsie,  will 
afford  more  rest. 

For  myself  I   can   always  bear  to   be   near 


A  RESTFUL  WAY  TO  SEE  COLORADO.      13 

sights  without  seeing  them.  I  believed  what  I 
heard  —  never  were  such  grand  mountains  ! 
never  such  soul-stirring  views  !  never  such  hair- 
breadth roads  !  I  believed  —  and  stayed  in  my 
cottonwood  grove  content.  I  knew  how  it  all 
looked ;  did  I  not  peer  down  into  one  canon, 
holding  my  breath  the  while  ?  and,  with  slightly 
differing  arrangement  of  rocks  and  pine-trees 
and  brooks,  are  not  all  canons  the  same  ?  Did 
I  not  gaze  with  awe  at  the  "  trail  to  the  grave 
of  H.  H,,"  and  watch,  without  envy,  the  sight- 
seeing tourist  struggle  with  its  difficulties  ? 
Could  I  not  supply  myself  with  photographs, 
and  guide  -  books,  and  poems,  and  "  H.  H.'s  " 
glowing  words,  and  picture  the  whole  scene  ?  I 
could,  I  did,  and  to  me  Colorado  was  a  delight- 
ful place  of  rest,  with  mountain  air  that  it  was 
a  luxury  to  breathe  (after  the  machinery  ad- 
justed itself  to  the  altitude),  with  glorious  sun- 
shine every  morning,  with  unequaled  nights  of 
coolness,  and  a  new  flower  or  two  for  every  day 
of  the  month. 

If  to  "  see  Colorado  "  one  must  ascend  every 
peak,  toil  through  every  canon,  cast  the  eyes  on 
every  waterfall,  shudder  over  each  precipice, 
wonder  at  each  eccentric  rock,  drink  from  every 
spring,  then  I  have  not  seen  America's  Wonder- 
land. But  if  to  steep  my  spirit  in  the  beauty 
of  its  mountains  so  that  they  shall  henceforth 


14  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

be  a  part  of  me;  to  inhale  its  enchanting  air 
till  my  body  itself  seemed  to  have  wings  ;  if  to 
paint  in  my  memory  its  gorgeous  procession  of 
flowers,  its  broad  mesa  crowned  with  the  royal 
blossoms  of  the  yucca,  its  cosy  cottonwood 
groves,  its  brooks  rushing  between  banks  of 
tangled  greenery  ;  if  this  is  to  "  see  Colorado," 
then  no  one  has  ever  seen  it  more  thoroughly. 

The  '^symphony  in  yellow  and  red,"  which 
"  H.  H."  calls  this  wonderland,  grows  upon  the 
sojourner  in  some  mysterious  way,  till  by  the 
time  he  has  seen  the  waxing  and  waning  of  one 
moon  he  is  an  enthusiast.  It  is  charming  alike 
to  the  sight-seer  whose  jaded  faculties  pine  for 
new  and  thrilling  emotions,  to  the  weary  in 
brain  and  body  who  longs  only  for  peace  and 
rest,  and  to  the  invalid  whose  every  breath  is  a 
pain  at  home.  To  the  lover  of  flowers  it  is  an 
exhaustless  panorama  of  beauty  and  fragrance, 
well  worth  crossing  the  continent  to  enjoy ;  to 
the  mountain  lover  it  offers  endless  attrac- 
tions. 

Nothing  is  more  fascinating  to  the  stranger 
in  Colorado  than  the  formation  of  its  canons, 
not  only  the  grand  ones  running  up  into  the 
heart  of  the  mountains,  but  the  lesser  ones  cut- 
ting into  the  high  table-land,  or  mesa,  at  the 
foot  of  the  hills.  The  above  mentioned  cotton- 
wood  grove,  for  example,  with  its  dozen  of  dwel- 


THE  HIDDEN  CA$ON.  15 

lings  and  a  natural  park  of  a  good  many  acres 
above  it,  with  tall  pines  that  bear  the  marks  of 
age,  is  so  curiously  hidden  that  one  may  come 
almost  upon  it  without  seeing  it.  It  is  reached 
from  Colorado  Springs  by  an  electric  road 
which  runs  along  the  mesa  south  of  the  town. 
As  the  car  nears  the  end  of  the  line,  one  begins 
to  look  around  for  the  grove.  Not  a  tree  is  in 
sight;  right  and  left  as  far  as  can  be  seen 
stretches  the  treeless  plain  to  the  foot  of  the 
eternal  hills ;  not  even  the  top  of  a  tall  pine 
thrusts  itself  above  the  dead  level.  Before  you 
is  Cheyenne  —  grim,  glorious,  but  impenetrable. 
The  conductor  stops.  "  This  is  your  place,"  he 
says.  You  see  no  place;  you  think  he  must 
be  mistaken. 

"  But  where  is  Camp  Harding  ? "  you  ask. 
He  points  to  an  obscure  path  —  "  trail  "  he  calls 
it  —  which  seems  to  throw  itself  over  an  edge. 
You  approach  that  point,  and  there,  to  your 
wonder  and  your  surprise,  at  your  feet  nestles 
the  loveliest  of  smiling  canon-like  valleys,  filled 
with  trees,  aspen,  oak,  and  pine,  with  here  and 
there  a  tent  or  red  roof  gleaming  through  the 
green,  and  a  noisy  brook  hurrying  on  its  way 
downhill.  By  a  steep  scramble  you  reach  the 
lower  level,  birds  singing,  flowers  tempting  on 
every  side,  and  the  picturesque,  narrow  trail 
leading  you  on,  around  the  ledge  of  rock,  over 


16  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

the  rustic  bridge,  till  you  reach  the  back  en- 
trauce  of  the  camp.  Before  it,  up  the  narrow 
valley,  winds  a  road,  the  carriage-way  to  the 
Cheyenne  canons. 


n. 

IN  THE  COTTONWOODS. 

A  COTTONWOOD  grove  is  the  nearest  approach 
to  our  Eastern  rural  districts  to  be  found  in 
Colorado,  and  a  cotton  storm,  looking  exactly 
like  a  snowstorm,  is  a  common  sight  in  these 
groves.  The  white,  fluffy  material  grows  in 
long  bunches,  loosely  attached  to  stems,  and 
the  fibre  is  very  short.  At  the  lightest  breeze 
that  stirs  the  branches,  tiny  bits  of  it  take  to 
flight,  and  one  tree  will  shed  cotton  for  weeks. 
It  clings  to  one's  garments ;  it  gets  into  the 
houses,  and  sticks  to  the  carpets,  often  showing 
a  trail  of  white  footprints  where  a  person  has 
come  in ;  it  clogs  the  wire-gauze  screens  till 
they  keep  out  the  air  as  well  as  the  flies;  it 
fills  the  noses  and  the  eyes  of  men  and  beasts. 
But  its  most  curious  effect  is  on  the  plants  and 
flowers,  to  which  it  adheres,  being  a  little  gummy. 
Some  flowers  look  as  if  they  were  encased  in 
ice,  and  others  seem  wrapped  in  the  gauziest  of 
veils,  which,  flimsy  as  it  looks,  cannot  be  com- 
pletely cleared  from  the  leaves. 

It  covers  the  ground  like  snow,  and  strangely 


18  IN  T&E  EOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

enough  it  looks  in  June,  but  it  does  not,  like 
snow,  melt,  even  under  the  warm  summer  sun- 
shine. It  must  be  swept  from  garden  and  walks, 
and  carted  away.  A  heavy  rain  clears  the  air 
and  subdues  it  for  a  time,  but  the  sun  soon  dries 
the  bunches  still  on  the  trees,  and  the  cotton 
storm  is  again  in  full  blast.  This  annoyance 
lasts  through  June  and  a  part  of  July,  fully 
six  weeks,  and  then  the  stems  themselves  drop 
to  the  ground,  still  holding  enough  cotton  to 
keep  up  the  storm  for  days.  After  this,  the 
first  rainfall  ends  the  trouble  for  that  season. 

In  the  midst  of  the  cottonwoods,  in  beautiful 
Camp  Harding,  I  spent  the  June  that  followed 
the  journey  described  in  the  last  chapter,  — 

"  Dreaming  sweet,  idle  dreams  of  having  strayed 
To  Arcady  with  all  its  golden  lore." 

The  birds,  of  course,  were  my  first  concern. 
Ask  of  almost  any  resident  not  an  ornithologist 
if  there  are  birds  in  Colorado,  and  he  will  shake 
his  head. 

"  Not  many,  I  think,"  he  will  probably  say. 
"  Camp  birds  and  magpies.  Oh  yes,  and  larks. 
I  think  that 's  about  all." 

This  opinion,  oft  repeated,  did  not  settle  the 
matter  in  my  mind,  for  I  long  ago  discovered 
that  none  are  so  ignorant  of  the  birds  and 
flowers  of  a  neighborhood  as  most  of  the  people 
who  live  among  them.  I  sought  out  my  post, 
and  I  looked  for  myself. 


BIRDS  NOT  ON  EXHIBITION.  19 

There  are  birds  in  the  State,  plenty  of  them, 
but  they  are  not  on  exhibition  like  the  moun- 
tains and  their  wonders.  No  driver  knows  the 
way  to  their  haunts,  and  no  guide-book  points 
them  out.  Even  a  bird  student  may  travel  a 
day's  journey,  and  not  encounter  so  many  as 
one  shall  see  in  a  small  orchard  in  New  Eng- 
land. He  may  rise  with  the  dawn,  and  hear 
nothing  like  the  glorious  morning  chorus  that 
stirs  one  in  the  Atlantic  States.  He  may  search 
the  trees  and  shrubberies  for  long  June  days, 
and  not  find  so  many  nests  as  will  cluster  about 
one  cottage  at  home. 

Yet  the  birds  are  here,  but  they  are  shy,  and 
they  possess  the  true  Colorado  spirit,  —  they  are 
mountain-worshipers.  As  the  time  approaches 
when  each  bird  leaves  society  and  retires  for  a 
season  to  the  bosom  of  its  own  family,  many  of 
the  feathered  residents  of  the  State  bethink 
them  of  their  inaccessible  canons.  The  saucy 
jay  abandons  the  settlements  where  he  has  been 
so  familiar  as  to  dispute  with  the  dogs  for  their 
food,  and  sets  up  his  homestead  in  a  tall  pine- 
tree  on  a  slope  which  to  look  at  is  to  grow 
dizzy ;  the  magpie,  boldest  of  birds,  steals  away 
to  some  secure  retreat ;  the  meadow-lark  makes 
her  nest  in  the  monotonous  mesa,  where  it  is  as 
well  hidden  as  a  bobolink's  nest  in  a  New  Eng- 
land meadow. 


20  IN  THE  EOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

The  difficulties  in  the  way  of  studying  Colo- 
rado birds  are  several,  aside  from  their  exces- 
sive suspicion  of  every  human  being.  In  the 
first  place,  observations  must  be  made  before 
ten  o'clock,  for  at  that  hour  every  day  a  lively 
breeze,  which  often  amounts  to  a  gale,  springs 
up,  and  sets  the  cottonwood  and  aspen  leaves  in 
a  flutter  that  hides  the  movements  of  any  bird. 
Then,  all  through  the  most  interesting  month  of 
June  the  cottonwood-trees  are  shedding  their 
cotton,  and  to  a  person  on  the  watch  for  slight 
stirrings  among  the  leaves  the  falling  cotton  is 
a  constant  distraction.  The  butterflies,  too, 
wandering  about  in  their  aimless  way,  are  all 
the  time  deceiving  the  bird  student,  and  draw- 
ing attention  from  the  bird  he  is  watching. 

On  the  other  hand,  one  of  the  maddening 
pests  of  bird  study  at  the  East  is  here  almost 
unknown,  —  the  mosquito.  Until  the  third  week 
in  June  I  saw  but  one.  That  one  was  in  the 
habit  of  lying  in  wait  for  me  when  I  went  to  a 
piece  of  low,  swampy  ground  overgrown  with 
bushes.  Think  of  the  opportunity  this  combi- 
nation offers  to  the  Eastern  mosquito,  and 
consider  my  emotions  when  I  found  but  a  soli- 
tary individual,  and  even  that  one  disposed  to 
coquette  with  me. 

I  had  hidden  myself,  and  was  keeping  motion- 
less, in  order  to  see  the  very  shy  owners  of  a 


A  HESITATING  MOSQUITO.  21 

nest  I  had  found,  when  the  lonely  mosquito 
came  as  far  as  the  rim  of  my  shade  hat,  and 
hovered  there,  evidently  meditating  an  attack  — 
a  mosquito  hesitating !  I  could  not  stir  a  hand, 
or  even  shake  my  leafy  twig;  but  it  did  not 
require  such  violent  measures ;  a  light  puff  of 
breath  this  side  or  that  was  enough  to  discour- 
age the  gentle  creature,  and  in  all  the  hours  I 
sat  there  it  never  once  came  any  nearer.  The 
race  increased,  however,  and  became  rather 
troublesome  on  the  veranda  after  tea;  but  in 
the  grove  they  were  never  annoying ;  I  rarely 
saw  half  a  dozen.  When  I  remember  the  tor- 
tures endured  in  the  dear  old  woods  of  the  East, 
in  spite  of  "  lollicopop "  and  pennyroyal,  and 
other  horrors  with  which  I  have  tried  to  repel 
them,  I  could  almost  decide  to  live  and  die  in 
Colorado. 

The  morning  bird  chorus  in  the  cottonwood 
grove  where  I  spent  my  June  was  a  great  shock 
to  me.  If  my  tent  had  been  pitched  near  the 
broad  plains  in  which  the  meadow-lark  delights, 
I  might  have  wakened  to  the  glorious  song  of 
this  bird  of  the  West.  It  is  not  a  chorus,  indeed, 
for  one  rarely  hears  more  than  a  single  performer, 
but  it  is  a  solo  that  fully  makes  up  for  want  of 
numbers,  and  amply  satisfies  the  lover  of  bird 
music,  so  strong,  so  sweet,  so  moving  are  his 
notes. 


22  IN  THE  EOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

But  on  my  first  morning  in  the  grove,  what 
was  my  dismay  —  I  may  almost  say  despair  — 
to  find  that  the  Western  wood-pewee  led  the 
matins !  Now,  this  bird  has  a  peculiar  voice. 
It  is  loud,  pervasive,  and  in  quality  of  tone  not 
unlike  our  Eastern  phosbe,  lacking  entirely  the 
sweet  plaintiveness  of  our  wood-pewee.  A  pewee 
chorus  is  a  droll  and  dismal  affair.  The  poor 
things  do  their  best,  no  doubt,  and  they  cannot 
prevent  the  pessimistic  effect  it  has  upon  us. 
It  is  rhythmic,  but  not  in  the  least  musical,  and 
it  has  a  weird  power  over  the  listener.  This 
morning  hymn  does  not  say,  as  does  the  robin's, 
that  life  is  cheerful,  that  another  glorious  day  is 
dawning.  It  says,  "  Rest  is  over ;  another  day 
of  toil  is  here ;  come  to  work."  It  is  monoto- 
nous as  a  frog  chorus,  but  there  is  a  merry  thrill 
in  the  notes  of  the  amphibian  which  are  entirely 
wanting  in  the  song.  If  it  were  not  for  the 
light-hearted  tremolo  of  the  chewink  thrown  in 
now  and  then,  and  the  loud,  cheery  ditty  of  the 
summer  yellow-bird,  who  begins  soon  after  the 
pewee,  one  would  be  almost  superstitious  about 
so  unnatural  a  greeting  to  the  new  day.  The 
evening  call  of  the  bird  is  different.  He  will 
sit  far  up  on  a  dead  twig  of  an  old  pine-tree, 
and  utter  a  series  of  four  notes,  something  like 
"  do,  mi,  mi,  do,"  repeating  them  without  paus- 
ing till  it  is  too  dark  to  see  him,  all  the  time 


THE  BIRDS  UNFAMILIAR.  23 

getting  lower,  sadder,  more  deliberate,  till  one 
feels  like  running  out  and  committing  suicide 
or  annihilating  the  bird  of  ill-omen. 

I  felt  myself  a  stranger  indeed  when  I  reached 
this  pleasant  spot,  and  found  that  even  the  birds 
were  unfamiliar.  No  robin  or  bluebird  greeted 
me  on  my  arrival ;  no  cheerful  song-sparrow 
tuned  his  little  pipe  for  my  benefit ;  no  phoebe 
shouted  the  beloved  name  from  the  peak  of  the 
barn.  Everything  was  strange.  One  accus- 
tomed to  the  birds  of  our  Eastern  States  can 
hardly  conceive  of  the  country  without  robins 
in  plenty  ;  but  in  this  unnatural  corner  of  Uncle 
Sam's  dominion  I  found  but  one  pair. 

The  most  common  song  from  morning  till 
night  was  that  of  the  summer  yellow  -  bird,  or 
yellow  warbler.  It  was  not  the  delicate  little 
strain  we  are  accustomed  to  hear  from  this  bird, 
but  a  loud,  clear  carol,  equal  in  volume  to  the 
notes  of  our  robin.  These  three  birds,  with  the 
addition  of  a  vireo  or  two,  were  our  main  de- 
pendence for  daily  music,  though  we  were  fa- 
vored occasionally  by  others.  Now  the  Arkansas 
goldfinch  uttered  his  sweet  notes  from  the  thick 
foliage  of  the  cottonwood-trees  ;  then  the  charm- 
ing aria  of  the  catbird  came  softly  from  the 
tangle  of  rose  and  other  bushes;  the  black- 
headed  grosbeak  now  and  then  saluted  us  from 
the  top  of  a  pine-tree ;  and  rarely,  too  rarely, 


24  IN  THE  BOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

alas !  a  passing  meadow-lark  filled  all  the  grove 
with  his  wonderful  song. 

And  there  was  the  wren !  He  interested  me 
from  the  first ;  for  a  wren  is  a  bird  of  individu- 
ality always,  and  his  voice  reminded  me,  in  a 
feeble  way,  of  the  witching  notes  of  the  winter 
wren,  the 

"Brown  wren  from  out  whose  swelling  throat 
Unstinted  joys  of  music  float." 

This  bird  was  the  house  wren,  the  humblest 
member  of  his  musical  family;  but  there  was 
in  his  simple  melody  the  wren  quality,  suggest- 
ive of  the  thrilling  performances  of  his  more 
gifted  relatives ;  and  I  found  it  and  him  very 
pleasing. 

The  chosen  place  for  his  vocal  display  was  a 
pile  of  brush  besides  closed-up  little  cottage, 
and  I  suspected  him  of  having  designs  upon 
that  two-roomed  mansion  for  nesting  purposes. 
After  hopping  all  about  the  loose  sticks,  deliver- 
ing his  bit  of  an  aria  a  dozen  times  or  more,  in 
a  most  rapturous  way,  he  would  suddenly  dive 
into  certain  secret  passages  among  the  dead 
branches,  when  he  was  instantly  lost  to  sight. 
Then,  in  a  few  seconds,  a  close  watcher  might 
sometimes  see  him  pass  like  a  shadow,  under  the 
cottage,  which  stood  up  on  corner  posts,  dart 
out  the  farther  side,  and  fly  at  once  to  the  eaves. 

One  day  I  was  drawn  from  the  house  by  a 


A  DISSEMBLING   WEEN.  25 

low  and  oft-repeated  cry,  like  "  Hear,  hear, 
hear !  "  It  was  emphatic  and  imperative,  as  if 
some  unfortunate  little  body  had  the  business 
of  the  world  on  his  shoulders,  and  could  not  get 
it  done  to  his  mind.  I  carefully  approached  the 
disturbed  voice,  and  was  surprised  to  find  it 
belonged  to  the  wren,  who  was  so  disconcerted 
at  sight  of  me,  that  I  concluded  this  particular 
sort  of  utterance  must  be  for  the  benefit  of  his 
family  alone.  Later,  that  kind  of  talk,  his  lord- 
and-master  style  as  I  supposed,  was  the  most 
common  sound  I  heard  from  him,  and  not  near 
the  cottage  and  the  brush  heap,  but  across  the 
brook.  I  thought  that  perhaps  I  had  displeased 
him  by  too  close  surveillance,  and  he  had  set 
up  housekeeping  out  of  my  reach.  Across  the 
brook  I  could  not  go,  for  between  "our  side" 
and  the  other  raged  a  feud,  which  had  culmin- 
ated in  torn-up  bridges  and  barbed  wire  protec- 
tions. 

One  day,  however,  I  had  a  surprise.  In 
studying  another  bird,  I  was  led  around  to  the 
back  of  the  still  shut-up  cottage,  and  there  I 
found,  very  unexpectedly,  an  exceedingly  busy 
and  silent  wren.  He  did  sing  occasionally  while 
I  watched  him  from  afar,  but  in  so  low  a  tone 
that  it  could  not  be  heard  a  few  steps  away.  Of 
course  I  understood  this  unnatural  circumspec- 
tion, and  on  observing  him  cautiously,  I  saw  that 


26  IN  THE  BOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

he  made  frequent  visits  to  the  eaves  of  the  cot- 
tage, the  very  spot  I  had  hoped  he  would  nest. 
Then  I  noted  that  he  carried  in  food,  and  on 
coming  out  he  alighted  on  a  dead  bush,  and  sang 
under  his  breath.  Here,  then,  was  the  nest,  and 
all  his  pretense  of  scolding  across  the  brook  was 
but  a  blind !  Wary  little  rogue  !  Who  would 
ever  suspect  a  house  wren  of  shyness  ? 

I  had  evidently  done  him  injustice  when  I 
regarded  the  scolding  as  his  family  manner,  for 
here  in  his  home  he  was  quiet  as  a  mouse,  except 
when  his  joy  bubbled  over  in  trills. 

To  make  sure  of  my  conclusions  I  went  close 
to  the  house,  and  then  for  the  first  time  (to 
know  it)  I  saw  his  mate.  She  came  with  food 
in  her  beak,  and  was  greatly  disturbed  at  sight 
of  her  uninvited  guest.  She  stood  on  a  shrub 
near  me  fluttering  her  wings,  and  there  her 
anxious  spouse  joined  her,  and  fluttered  his  in 
the  same  way,  uttering  at  the  same  time  a  low, 
single  note  of  protest. 

On  looking  in  through  the  window,  I  found 
that  the  cottage  was  a  mere  shell,  all  open  under 
the  eaves,  so  that  the  birds  could  go  in  and  out 
anywhere.  The  nest  was  over  the  top  of  a 
window,  and  the  owner  thereof  ran  along  the 
beam  beside  it,  in  great  dudgeon  at  my  im- 
pertinent staring.  Had  ever  a  pair  of  wrens 
quarters  so  ample,  —  a  whole  cottage  to  them- 


THE  WEEN  REMONSTRATES.  27 

selves?  Henceforth,  it  was  part  of  my  daily 
rounds  to  peep  in  at  the  window,  though  I  am 
sorry  to  say  it  aroused  the  indignation  of  the 
birds,  and  always  brought  them  to  the  beam 
nearest  me,  to  give  me  a  piece  of  their  mind. 

Bird  babies  grow  apace,  and  baby  wrens  have 
not  many  inches  to  achieve.  One  day  I  came 
upon  a  scene  of  wild  excitement :  two  wrenlings 
flying  madly  about  in  the  cottage,  now  plump 
against  the  window,  then  tumbling  breathless  to 
the  floor,  and  two  anxious  little  parents,  trying 
in  vain  to  show  their  headstrong  offspring  the 
way  they  should  go,  to  the  openings  under  the 
eaves  which  led  to  the  great  out-of-doors.  My 
face  at  the  window  seemed  to  be  the  "  last 
straw."  A  much-distressed  bird  came  boldly 
up  to  me  behind  the  glass,  saying  by  his  manner 
—  and  who  knows  but  in  words  ?  —  "  How  can 
you  be  so  cruel  as  to  disturb  us  ?  Don't  you  see 
the  trouble  we  are  in?"  He  had  no  need  of 
Anglo-Saxon  (or  even  of  American-English!). 
I  understood  him  at  once ;  and  though  exceed- 
ingly curious  to  see  how  they  would  do  it,  I  had 
not  the  heart  to  insist.  I  left  them  to  manage 
their  willful  little  folk  in  their  own  way. 

The  next  morning  I  was  awakened  by  the 
jolliest  wren  music  of  the  season.  Over  and 
over  the  bird  poured  out  his  few  notes,  louder, 
madder,  more  rapturously  than  I  had  supposed 


28  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

he  could.  He  had  guided  his  family  safely  out 
of  their  imprisoning  four  walls,  I  was  sure. 
And  so  I  found  it  when  I  went  out.  Not  a 
wren  to  be  seen  about  the  house,  but  soft  little 
"  churs  "  coming  from  here  and  there  among  the 
shrubbery,  and  every  few  minutes  a  loud,  happy 
song  proclaimed  that  wren  troubles  were  over 
for  the  summer.  Far  in  among  the  tangle  of 
bushes  and  vines,  I  came  upon  him,  as  gay  as  he 
had  been  of  yore :  — 

"  Pausing  and  peering,  with  sidling  head, 
As  saucily  questioning  all  I  said  ; 
While  the  ox-eye  danced  on  its  slender  stem, 
And  all  glad  Nature  rejoiced  with  them." 

The  chewink  is  a  curious  exchange  for  the 
robin.  When  I  noticed  the  absence  of  the  red- 
breast, whom  —  like  the  poor  —  we  have  always 
with  us  (at  the  East),  I  was  pleased,  in  spite  of 
my  fondness  for  him,  because,  as  every  one  must 
allow,  he  is  sometimes  officious  in  his  attentions, 
and  not  at  all  reticent  in  expressing  his  opin- 
ions. I  did  miss  his  voice  in  the  morning 
chorus,  —  the  one  who  lived  in  the  grove  was  not 
much  of  a  singer,  —  but  I  was  glad  to  know  the 
chewink,  who  was  almost  a  stranger.  His  pe- 
culiar trilling  song  was  heard  from  morning  till 
night ;  he  came  familiarly  about  the  camp,  eat- 
ing from  the  dog's  dish,  and  foraging  for  crumbs 
at  the  kitchen  door.  Next  to  the  wood-pewee, 


A  DROLL  PERFORMANCE.  29 

he  was  the  most  friendly  of  our  feathered  neigh- 
bors. 

He  might  be  seen  at  any  time,  hopping  about 
on  the  ground,  one  moment  picking  up  a  morsel 
of  food,  and  the  next  throwing  up  his  head  and 
bursting  into  song :  — 

"  But  not  for  you  his  little  singing1, 
Soul  of  fire  its  flame  is  flinging, 
Sings  he  for  himself  alone," 

as  was  evident  from  the  unconscious  manner  in 
which  he  uttered  his  notes  between  two  mouth- 
fuls,  never  mounting  a  twig  or  making  a  "  per- 
formance "  of  his  music.  I  have  watched  one 
an  hour  at  a  time,  going  about  in  his  jerky 
fashion,  tearing  up  the  ground  and  searching 
therein,  exactly  after  the  manner  of  a  scratch- 
ing hen.  This,  by  the  way,  was  a  droll  opera- 
tion, done  with  both  feet  together,  a  jump  for- 
ward and  a  jerk  back  of  the  whole  body,  so 
rapidly  one  could  hardly  follow  the  motion,  but 
throwing  up  a  shower  of  dirt  every  time.  He 
had  neither  the  grace  nor  the  dignity  of  our 
domestic  biddy. 

Matter  of  fact  as  this  fussy  little  personage 
was  on  the  ground,  taking  in  his  breakfast  and 
giving  out  his  song,  he  was  a  different  bird 
when  he  got  above  it.  Alighting  on  the  wren's 
brush  heap,  for  instance,  he  would  bristle  up, 
raising  the  feathers  on  head  and  neck,  his  red 


30  IN  THE  BOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

eyes  glowing  eagerly,  his  tail  a  little  spread 
and  standing  up  at  a  sharp  angle,  prepared  for 
instant  fight  or  flight,  whichever  seemed  desir- 
able. 

I  was  amused  to  hear  the  husky  cry  with  which 
this  bird  expresses  most  of  his  emotions,  —  about 
as  nearly  a  "  mew,"  to  my  ears,  as  the  catbird 
executes.  Whether  frolicking  with  a  comrade 
among  the  bushes,  reproving  a  too  inquisitive 
bird  student,  or  warning  the  neighborhood 
against  some  monster  like  a  stray  kitten,  this 
one  cry  seemed  to  answer  for  all  his  needs,  and, 
excepting  the  song,  was  the  only  sound  I  heard 
him  utter. 

Familiar  as  the  chewink  might  be  about  our 
quarters,  his  own  home  was  well  hidden,  on  the 
rising  ground  leading  up  to  the  mesa,  — 

"  An  unkempt  zone, 
Where  vines  and  weeds  and  scrub  oaks  intertwine," 

which  no  one  bigger  than  a  bird  could  pene- 
trate. Whenever  I  appeared  in  that  neighbor- 
hood, I  was  watched  and  followed  by  anxious 
and  disturbed  chewinks ;  but  I  never  found  a 
nest,  though,  judging  from  the  conduct  of  the 
residents,  I  was  frequently  ''very  warm"  (as 
the  children  say). 

About  the  time  the  purple  aster  began  to 
unclose  its  fringed  lids,  and  the  mariposa  lily  to 
unfold  its  delicate  cups  on  the  lower  mesa* — 


THE  BABIES  APPEAE.  31 

nearly  the  middle  of  July,  —  full-grown  chewink 
babies,  in  brown  coats  and  streaked  vests,  made 
their  appearance  in  the  grove,  and  after  that  the 
whole  world  might  search  the  scrub  oaks  and 
not  a  bird  would  say  him  nay. 

"  All  is  silent  now 

Save  bell-note  from  some  wandering  cow, 
Or  rippling1  lark-song  far  away." 


III. 

AN  UPROAR  OF  SONG. 

THE  bird  music  of  Colorado,  though  not  so 
abundant  as  one  could  wish,  is  singularly  rich 
in  quality,  and  remarkable  for  its  volume.  At 
the  threshold  of  the  State  the  traveler  is  struck 
by  this  peculiarity.  As  the  train  thunders  by, 
the  Western  meadow-lark  mounts  a  telegraph 
pole  and  pours  out  such  a  peal  of  melody  that 
it  is  distinctly  heard  above  the  uproar  of  the 
iron  wheels. 

This  bird  is  preeminently  the  bird  of  the 
mesa,  or  high  table-land  of  the  region,  and  only 
to  hear  his  rare  song  is  well  worth  a  journey 
to  that  distant  wonderland.  Not  of  his  music 
could  Lucy  Larcom  say,  as  she  so  happily  does 
of  our  bird  of  the  meadow,  — 

"  Sounds  the  meadow-lark's  refrain 
Just  as  sad  and  clear." 

Nor  could  his  sonorous  song  be  characterized 
by  Clinton  Scollard's  exquisite  verse,  — 

"  From  whispering'  winds  your  plaintive  notes  were  drawn." 

For  the  brilliant  solo  of  Colorado's  bird  is  not 


WONDER-SONG  OF  THE  WEST.  33 

in  the  least  like  the  charming  minor  chant  of 
our  Eastern  lark.  So  powerful  that  it  is  heard 
at  great  distances  in  the  clear  air,  it  is  still  not 
in  the  slightest  degree  strained  or  harsh,  but  is 
sweet  and  rich,  whether  it  be  close  at  one  's  side 
in  the  silence,  or  shouted  from  the  housetop  in 
the  tumult  of  a  busy  street.  It  has,  moreover, 
the  same  tender  winsomeness  that  charms  us  in 
our  own  lark  song;  something  that  fills  the 
sympathetic  listener  with  delight,  that  satisfies 
his  whole  being ;  a  siren  strain  that  he  longs  to 
listen  to  forever.  The  whole  breadth  and  gran- 
deur of  the  great  West  is  in  this  song,  its 
freedom,  its  wildness,  the  height  of  its  moun- 
tains, the  sweep  of  its  rivers,  the  beauty  of  its 
flowers,  —  all  in  the  wonderful  performance. 
Even  after  months  of  absence,  the  bare  mem- 
ory of  the  song  of  the  mesa  will  move  its  lover 
to  an  almost  painful  yearning.  Of  him,  indeed, 
Shelley  might  truthfully  say,  — 

"  Better  than  all  measures 

Of  delightful  sound, 
Better  than  all  treasures 

That  in  books  are  found, 
Thy  skill  to  poet  were, 

Thou  scorner  of  the  ground." 

Nor  is  the  variety  of  the  lark  song  less  note- 
worthy than  its  quality.  That  each  bird  has  a 
large  repertoire  I  cannot  assert,  for  my  oppor- 
tunities for  study  have  been  too  limited  ;  but  it 


34  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

is  affirmed  by  those  who  know  him  better,  that 
he  has,  and  I  fully  believe  it. 

One  thing  is  certainly  true  of  nearly  if  not 
quite  all  of  our  native  birds,  that  no  two  sing 
exactly  alike,  and  the  close  observer  soon  learns 
to  distinguish  between  the  robins  and  the  song- 
sparrows  of  a  neighborhood,  by  their  notes  alone. 
The  Western  lark  seems  even  more  than  others 
to  individualize  his  utterances,  so  that  constant 
surprises  reward  the  discriminating  listener. 
During  two  months'  bird-study  in  that  delight- 
ful canon-hidden  grove  at  the  foot  of  Cheyenne 
Mountain,  one  particular  bird  song  was  for 
weeks  an  unsolved  mystery.  The  strain  con- 
sisted of  three  notes  in  loud,  ringing  tones, 
which  syllabled  themselves  very  plainly  in  my 
ear  as  "  Whip-for-her." 

This  unseemly,  and  most  emphatic,  demand 
came  always  from  a  distance,  and  apparently 
from  the  top  of  some  tall  tree,  and  it  proved  to 
be  most  tantalizing  ;  for  although  the  first  note 
invariably  brought  me  out,  opera-glass  in  hand, 
I  was  never  able  to  come  any  nearer  to  a  sight 
of  the  unknown  than  the  sway  of  a  twig  he  had 
just  left. 

One  morning,  however,  before  I  was  up,  the 
puzzling  songster  visited  the  little  grove  under  my 
windows,  and  I  heard  his  whole  song,  of  which 
it  now  appeared  the  three  notes  were  merely  the 


A  SWEET  MOUNTAIN  SINGER.  35 

conclusion.  The  performance  was  eccentric. 
It  began  with  a  soft  warble,  apparently  for  his 
sole  entertainment,  then  suddenly,  as  if  over- 
whelmed by  memory  of  wrongs  received  or  of 
punishment  deserved,  he  interrupted  his  tender 
melody  with  a  loud,  incisive  "  Whip-for-her !  " 
in  a  totally  different  manner.  His  nearness, 
however,  solved  the  mystery;  the  ring  of  the 
meadow-lark  was  in  his  tones,  and  I  knew  him 
at  once.  I  had  not  suspected  his  identity,  for 
the  Western  bird  does  not  take  much  trouble 
to  keep  out  of  sight,  and,  moreover,  his  song  is 
rarely  less  than  six  or  eight  notes  in  length. 

Another  unique  singer  of  the  highlands  is  the 
horned  lark.  One  morning  in  June  a  lively 
carriage  party  passing  along  the  mountain  side, 
on  a  road  so  bare  and  bleak  that  it  seemed  no- 
thing could  live  there,  was  startled  by  a  small 
gray  bird,  who  suddenly  dashed  out  of  the  sand 
beside  the  wheels,  ran  across  the  path,  and  flew 
to  a  fence  on  the  other  side.  Undisturbed,  per- 
haps even  stimulated,  by  the  clatter  of  two  horses 
and  a  rattling  mountain  wagon,  undaunted  by 
the  laughing  and  talking  load,  the  little  creature 
at  once  burst  into  song,  so  loud  as  to  be  heard 
above  the  noisy  procession,  and  so  sweet  that  it 
silenced  every  tongue. 

"  How  exquisite !  What  is  it  ?  "  we  asked 
each  other,  at  the  end  of  the  little  aria. 


36  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

"  It 's  the  gray  sand  bird,"  answered  the  na- 
tive driver. 

"  Otherwise  the  horned  lark,"  added  the 
young  naturalist,  from  his  broncho  behind  the 
carriage. 

Let  not  his  name  mislead :  this  pretty  fellow, 
in  soft,  gray-tinted  plumage,  is  not  deformed  by 
"  horns ;  "  it  is  only  two  little  tufts  of  feathers, 
which  give  a  certain  piquant,  wide-awake  ex- 
pression to  his  head,  that  have  fastened  upon 
him  a  title  so  incongruous.  The  nest  of  the 
desert-lover  is  a  slight  depression  in  the  barren 
earth,  nothing  more  ;  and  the  eggs  harmonize 
with  their  surroundings  in  color.  The  whole  is 
concealed  by  its  very  openness,  and  as  hard  to 
find,  as  the  bobolink's  cradle  in  the  trackless 
grass  of  the  meadow. 

Most  persistent  of  all  the  singers  of  the  grove 
beside  the  house  was  the  yellow  warbler,  a 
dainty  bit  of  f  eatherhood  the  size  of  one's  thumb. 
On  the  Atlantic  coast  his  simple  ditty  is  tender, 
and  so  low  that  it  must  be  listened  for ;  but  in 
that  land  of  "  skies  so  blue  they  flash,"  he  sings 
it  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  louder  than  the  robin 
song  as  we  know  it,  and  easily  heard  above  the 
roar  of  the  wind  and  the  brawling  of  the  brook 
he  haunts. 

Before  me  at  this  moment  is  the  nest  of  one  of 
these  little  sprites,  which  I  watched  till  the  last 


A  DISMAL    WAIL.  37 

dumpy  infant  had  taken  flight,  and  then  secured 
with  the  branchlet  it  was  built  upon.  It  was  in 
a  young  oak,  not  more  than  twelve  feet  from  the 
ground,  occupying  a  perpendicular  fork,  where  it 
was  concealed  and  shaded  by  no  less  than  six- 
teen twigs,  standing  upright,  and  loaded  with 
leaves.  The  graceful  cup  itself,  to  judge  by  its 
looks,  might  be  made  of  white  floss  silk,  —  I 
have  no  curiosity  to  know  the  actual  material,  — 
and  is  cushioned  inside  with  downy  fibres  from 
the  cottonwood-tree.  It  is  dainty  enough  for  a 
fairy's  cradle. 

The  wood-pewee,  in  dress  and  manners  nearly 
resembling  his  Eastern  brother, 

"  The  pewee  of  the  loneliest  woods, 
Sole  singer  in  the  solitudes," 

has  a  strange  and  decidedly  original  utterance. 
While  much  louder  and  more  continuous,  it 
lacks  the  sweetness  of  our  bird's  notes  ;  indeed, 
it  resembles  in  quality  of  tone  the  voice  of  our 
phoebe,  or  his  beautiful  relative,  the  great-crested 
flycatcher.  The  Westerner  has  a  great  deal  to 
say  for  himself.  On  alighting,  he  announces 
the  fact  by  a  single  note,  which  is  a  habit  also 
of  our  phoabe ;  he  sings  the  sun  up  in  the  morn- 
ing, and  he  sings  it  down  in  the  evening,  and  he 
would  be  a  delightful  neighbor  if  only  his  voice 
were  pleasing.  But  there  is  little  charm  in  the 
music,  for  it  is  in  truth  a  dismal  chant,  with  the 


38  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

air  and  cheerfulness  of  a  funeral  dirge  —  a  pes- 
simistic performance  that  inspires  the  listener 
with  a  desire  to  choke  him  then  and  there. 

This  bird's  nest,  as  well  as  his  song,  is  unlike 
that  of  our  wood-pewee.  Instead  of  a  delicate, 
lichen-covered  saucer  set  lightly  upon  a  horizon- 
tal crotch  of  a  dead  branch,  —  our  bird's  chosen 
home,  —  it  is  a  deeper  cup,  fastened  tightly  upon 
a  large  living  branch,  and,  at  least  in  a  cotton- 
wood  grove,  decorated  on  the  outside  with  the 
fluffy  cotton  from  the  trees. 

Even  the  humming-bird,  who  contents  him- 
self in  this  part  of  the  world  with  a  modest 
hum,  heard  but  a  short  distance  away,  at  the 
foot  of  the  Rocky  Mountains  may  almost  be 
called  a  noisy  bird.  The  first  one  I  noticed 
dashed  out  of  a  thickly  leaved  tree  with  loud, 
angry  cries,  swooped  down  toward  me,  and  flew 
back  and  forth  over  my  head,  scolding  with  a 
hum  which,  considering  his  size,  might  almost 
be  called  a  roar.  I  could  not  believe  my  ears 
until  my  eyes  confirmed  their  testimony.  The 
sound  was  not  made  by  the  wings,  but  was 
plainly  a  cry  strong  and  harsh  in  an  extraordi- 
nary degree. 

The  Western  ruby-throat  has  other  singular- 
ities which  differentiate  him  from  his  Eastern 
brother.  It  is  very  droll  to  see  one  of  his 
family  take  part  in  the  clamors  of  a  bird  mob, 


PANIC  IN  THE  BIRD  WORLD.  39 

perching  like  his  bigger  fellows,  and  adding  his 
excited  cries  to  the  notes  of  catbird  and  robin, 
chewink  and  yellow-bird.  Attracted  one  morn- 
ing by  a  great  bird  outcry  in  a  dense  young  oak 
grove  across  the  road,  I  left  my  seat  under  the 
cottoiiwoods  and  strolled  over  toward  it.  It  was 
plain  that  some  tragedy  was  in  the  air,  for  the 
winged  world  was  in  a  panic.  Two  robins,  the 
only  pair  in  the  neighborhood,  uttered  their  cry 
of  distress  from  the  top  of  the  tallest  tree;  a 
catbird  hopped  from  branch  to  branch,  flirting 
his  tail  and  mewing  in  agitation ;  a  chewink  or 
two  near  the  ground  jerked  themselves  about 
uneasily,  adding  their  strange,  husky  call  to  the 
hubbub  ;  and  above  the  din  rose  the  shrill  voice 
of  a  humming-bird.  Every  individual  had  his 
eyes  fixed  upon  the  ground,  where  it  was  evi- 
dent that  some  monster  must  be  lurking.  I 
expected  a  big  snake  at  the  very  least,  and,  put- 
ting the  lower  branches  aside,  I,  too,  peered  into 
the  semi-twilight  of  the  grove. 

No  snake  was  there  ;  but  my  eyes  fell  upon 
an  anxious  little  gray  face,  obviously  much  dis- 
turbed to  find  itself  the  centre  of  so  much  atten- 
tion. As  I  appeared,  this  bugaboo,  who  had 
caused  all  the  excitement,  recognized  me  as  a 
friend  and  ran  toward  me,  crying  piteously.  It 
was  a  very  small  lost  kitten  ! 

I  took  up  the  stray  little  beastie,  and  a  silence 


40  IN  THE  EOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

fell  upon  the  assembly  in  the  trees,  which  began 
to  scatter,  each  one  departing  upon  his  own 
business  in  a  moment.  But  the  humming-bird 
refused  to  be  so  easily  pacified ;  he  was  bound 
to  see  the  end  of  the  affair,  and  he  followed  me 
out  of  the  grove,  still  vigorously  speaking  his 
mind  about  the  enemy  in  fur.  I  suspected  that 
the  little  creature  had  wandered  away  from  the 
house  on  the  hill  above,  and  I  went  up  to  see. 
The  hummer  accompanied  me  every  step  of  the 
way,  sometimes  flying  over  my  head,  and  again 
alighting  for  a  minute  on  a  branch  under  which 
I  passed.  Not  until  he  saw  me  deliver  pussy 
into  the  hands  of  her  own  family,  and  return  to 
my  usual  seat  in  the  grove,  did  he  release  me 
from  surveillance  and  take  his  leave. 

The  yellow-breasted  chat,  the  long-tailed  va- 
riety belonging  to  the  West,  delivers  his  strange 
medley  of  "  chacks  "  and  whistles,  and  rattles 
and  other  indescribable  cries,  in  a  voice  that  is 
loud  and  distinct,  as  well  as  sweet  and  rich. 
He  is  a  bird  of  humor,  too,  with  a  mocking 
spirit  not  common  in  his  race.  One  day,  while 
sitting  motionless  in  a  hidden  nook,  trying  to 
spy  upon  the  domestic  affairs  of  this  elusive  in- 
dividual, I  was  startled  by  the  so-called  "laugh" 
of  a  robin,  which  was  instantly  repeated  by  a 
chat,  unseen,  but  quite  near.  The  robin,  appar- 
ently surprised  or  interested,  called  again,  and 


THE  SAUCY  CHAT.  41 

was  a  second  time  mocked.  Then  he  lost  his 
temper,  and  began  a  serious  reproof  to  the 
levity  of  his  neighbor,  which  ended  in  a  good 
round  scolding,  as  the  saucy  chat  continued  to 
repeat  his  taunting  laugh.  This  went  on  till 
the  redbreast  flew  away  in  high  dudgeon. 

Why  our  little  brothers  in  feathers  are  so 
much  more  boisterous  than  elsewhere, 

"  Up  in  the  parks  and  the  mesas  wide, 
Under  the  blue  of  the  bluest  sky," 

has  not,  so  far  as  I  know,  been  discovered. 

Whether  it  be  the  result  of  habitual  opposi- 
tion to  the  strong  winds  which,  during  the  sea- 
son of  song,  sweep  over  the  plains  every  day,  or 
whether  the  exhilaration  of  the  mountain  air  be 
the  cause  —  who  can  tell  ? 


rv. 

THE  TRAGEDY  OF  A  NEST. 

NEAR  to  the  Camp,  a  little  closer  to  beautiful 
Cheyenne  Mountain,  lay  a  small  park.  It  was 
a  continuation  of  the  grove,  through  which  the 
brook  came  roaring  and  tumbling  down  from 
the  canons  above,  and,  being  several  miles  from 
the  town,  it  had  never  become  a  popular  resort. 
A  few  winding  paths,  and  a  rude  bench  here 
and  there,  were  the  only  signs  of  man's  inter- 
ference with  its  native  wildness;  it  was  practi- 
cally abandoned  to  the  birds  —  and  me. 

The  birds  had  full  possession  when  I  appeared 
on  the  scene,  and  though  I  did  my  best  to  be 
unobtrusive,  my  presence  was  not  so  welcome  as 
I  could  have  wished.  Every  morning  when  I 
came  slowly  and  quietly  up  the  little  path  from 
the  gate,  bird-notes  suddenly  ceased ;  the  gros- 
beak, pouring  out  his  soul  from  the  top  of  a 
pine-tree,  dived  down  the  other  side;  the  to- 
whee,  picking  up  his  breakfast  on  the  ground, 
scuttled  behind  the  bushes  and  disappeared; 
the  humming-bird,  interrupted  in  her  morning 
"  affairs,"  flew  off  over  my  head,  scolding  vigor- 


CHEYENNE'S  POET  AND  LOVER.    43 

ously  ;  only  the  vireo  —  serene  as  always  — 
went  on  warbling  and  eating,  undisturbed. 

Then  I  made  haste  to  seek  out  an  obscure 
spot,  where  I  could  sit  and  wait  in  silence,  to 
see  who  might  unwittingly  show  himself . 

I  was  never  lonely,  and  never  tired ;  for  if  — 
as  sometimes  happened  —  no  flit  of  wing  came 
near  to  interest  me,  there  before  me  was  beauti- 
ful Cheyenne,  with  its  changing  face  never 
twice  alike,  and  its  undying  associations  with 
its  poet  and  lover,  whose  lonely  grave  makes  it 
forever  sacred  to  those  who  loved  her.  There, 
too,  was  the  wonderful  sky  of  Colorado,  so  blue 
it  looked  almost  violet,  and  near  at  hand  the 
"  Singing  Water,"  whose  stirring  music  was 
always  inspiring. 

One  morning  I  was  startled  from  my  reverie 
by  a  sudden  cry,  so  loud  and  clear  that  I  turned 
quickly  to  see  what  manner  of  bird  had  uttered 
it.  The  voice  was  peculiar  and  entirely  new  to 
me.  First  came  a  scolding  note  like  that  of  an 
oriole,  then  the  "  chack  "  of  a  blackbird,  and 
next  a  sweet,  clear  whistle,  one  following  the 
other  rapidly  and  vehemently,  as  if  the  per- 
former intended  to  display  all  his  accomplish- 
ments in  a  breath.  Cheyenne  vanished  like 
"the  magic  mountain  of  a  dream,"  blue  skies 
were  forgotten,  the  babbling  brook  unheard, 
every  sense  was  instantly  alert  to  see  that  ex- 
traordinary bird,  — 


44  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

"  Like  a  poet  hidden, 
Singing  songs  unbidden," 

But  he  did  not  appear.  Not  a  leaf  rustled,  not 
a  twig  bent,  though  the  strange  medley  kept  on 
for  fifteen  minutes,  then  ceased  as  abruptly  as  it 
had  begun,  and  not  a  whisper  more  could  be 
heard.  The  whole  thing  seemed  uncanny.  Was 
it  a  bird  at  all,  or  a  mere  "  wandering  voice  "  ? 
It  seemed  to  come  from  a  piece  of  rather 
swampy  ground,  overgrown  with  clumps  of  wil- 
low and  low  shrubs ;  but  what  bird  of  earthly 
mould  could  come  and  go,  and  make  no  sign  that 
a  close  student  of  bird  ways  could  detect  ?  Did 
he  creep  on  the  ground  ?  Did  he  vanish  into 
thin  air? 

Hours  went  by.  I  could  not  go,  and  my 
leafy  nook  was  "struck  through  with  slanted 
shafts  of  afternoon  "  before  I  reluctantly  gave 
up  that  I  should  not  see  my  enchanter  that  day, 
and  slowly  left  the  grove,  the  mystery  unex- 
plained. 

Very  early  the  next  morning  I  was  saluted 
by  the  same  loud,  clear  calls  near  the  house. 
Had  then  the  Invisible  followed  me  home  ?  I 
sprang  up  and  hurried  to  the  always  open  win- 
dow. The  voice  was  very  near;  but  I  could 
not  see  its  author,  though  I  was  hidden  behind 
blinds. 

This   time   the   bird  —  if  bird  it  were  —  in- 


AN  EXTRAORDINARY  PERFORMANCE.    45 

dulged  in  a  fuller  repertoire.  I  seized  pencil 
and  paper,  and  noted  down  phonetically  the  dif- 
ferent notes  as  they  were  uttered.  This  is  the 
record :  "  Rat-t-t-t-t "  (very  rapid)  ;  "  quit !  quit ! 
quit !  "  (a  little  slower)  ;  "  wh-eu !  wh-eu  !  " 
(still  more  deliberately)  ;  "  chack  !  chack  ! 
chack  !  "  (quite  slow)  ;  "  ere,  ere,  ere,  ere  " 
(fast)  ;  "  hu  -  way !  hu  -  way  !  "  (very  sweet). 
There  was  a  still  more  musical  clause  that  I 
cannot  put  into  syllables,  then  a  rattle  exactly 
like  castanets,  and  lastly  a  sort  of  "  Kr-r-r  ! 
kr-r-r  !  "  in  the  tone  of  a  great-crested  fly- 
catcher. While  this  will  not  express  to  one 
who  has  not  heard  it  the  marvelous  charm  of  it 
all,  it  will  at  least  indicate  the  variety. 

Hardly  waiting  to  dispose  of  breakfast,  I  be- 
took myself  to  my  "  woodland  enchanted,"  re- 
solved to  stay  till  I  saw  that  bird. 

"  All  day  in  the  bushes 
The  woodland  was  haunted." 

The  voice  was  soon  on  hand,  and  once  more  I 
was  treated  to  the  incomparable  recitative. 

This  day,  too,  my  patience  was  rewarded; 
the  mystery  was  solved ;  I  saw  the  Unknown ! 
While  my  eyes  were  fixed  upon  a  certain  bush 
before  me,  the  singer  incautiously  ventured  too 
near  the  top  of  a  twig,  and  I  saw  him  plainly, 
standing  almost  upright,  and  vehemently  chant- 
ing his  fantasia,  opening  his  mouth  very  wide 


46  Iff  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

with  every  call.  I  knew  him  at  once,  the  rogue ! 
from  having  read  of  him ;  he  was  the  yellow- 
breasted  chat.  It  was  well,  indeed,  that  I  hap- 
pened to  be  looking  at  that  very  spot,  and  that 
I  was  quick  in  my  observation ;  for  in  a  moment 
he  saw  the  blunder  he  had  made,  and  slipped 
back  down  the  stem,  too  late  for  his  secret  —  I 
had  him  down  in  black  and  white. 

From  that  time  the  little  park  was  never 
lonely,  nor  did  I  spend  much  time  dreaming 
over  Cheyenne.  The  moment  I  appeared  in  the 
morning  my  lively  host  began  his  vocal  gym- 
nastics, while  I  sat  spellbound,  bewitched  by  the 
magic  of  his  notes.  In  spite  of  being  absorbed 
in  listening  to  him,  I  retained  my  faculties  suf- 
ficiently to  reflect  that  the  chat  had  probably 
other  employment  than  entertaining  me,  and 
that  doubtless  his  object  was  to  distract  my  at- 
tention from  looking  about  me,  or  to  reproach 
me  for  intruding  upon  his  private  domain.  In 
either  case  there  was,  of  course, 

"  A  nest  unseen 
Somewhere  among  the  million  stalks  ;  " 

and,  delightful  as  I  found  the  unseen  bird,  his 
nest  was  a  treasure  I  was  even  more  anxious  to 
see. 

Not  to  disturb  him  more  than  necessary,  I 
spent  part  of  an  evening  studying  up  the  nest- 
ing habits  of  the  chat,  —  the  long-tailed,  yellow- 


THE  NEST  DISCOVERED.  47 

breasted,  as  I  found  him  to  be,  —  and  the  next 
morning  made  a  thorough  search  through  the 
swamp,  looking  into  every  bush  and  examining 
every  thicket.  An  hour  or  two  of  this  hard 
work  satisfied  rne  for  the  day,  and  I  went  home 
warm  and  tired,  followed  to  the  very  door  by 
the  mocking  voice,  triumphing,  as  it  seemed,  in 
my  failure. 

The  next  day,  however,  fortune  smiled  upon 
me;  I  came  upon  a  nest,  not  far  above  the 
ground,  among  the  stems  of  a  clump  of  shrubs, 
which  exactly  answered  the  description  of  the 
one  I  sought.  Careful  not  to  lay  a  finger  on  it,  I 
slightly  parted  the  branches  above,  and  looked 
in  upon  three  pinkish-white  eggs,  small  in  size 
and  dainty  as  tinted  pearls.  Happy  day,  I 
thought,  and  the  forerunner  of  happy  to-mor- 
rows when  I  should  watch 

"  The  green  nest  full  of  pleasant  shade 
Wherein  three  speckled  eggs  were  laid," 

and  see  and  delight  in  the  family  life  centring 
about  it. 

To  study  a  bird  so  shy  required  extraordinary 
precautions  ;  I  therefore  sought,  and  found,  a 
post  of  observation  a  long  way  off,  where  I  could 
look  through  a  natural  vista  among  the  shrubs, 
and  with  my  glass  bring  the  bush  and  its  pre- 
cious contents  into  view.  For  greater  seclusion 
in  my  retreat,  so  that  I  should  be  as  little  con- 


48  IN  THE  BOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

spicuous  as  possible,  I  drew  down  a  branch  of 
the  low  tree  over  my  seat,  and  fastened  it  with 
a  fine  string  to  a  stout  weed  below.  Then  I 
thought  I  had  a  perfect  screen ;  I  devoutly 
hoped  the  birds  would  riot  notice  me. 

Vain  delusion !  and  labor  as  vain  !  Doubt- 
less two  pairs  of  anxious  eyes  watched  from 
some  neighboring  bush  all  my  careful  prepara- 
tions, and  then  and  there  two  despairing  hearts 
bade  farewell  to  their  lovely  little  home,  aban- 
doned it  and  its  treasures  to  the  spy  and  the 
destroyer,  which  in  their  eyes  I  seemed  to  be. 

This  conclusion  was  forced  upon  me  by  the 
experiences  of  the  next  few  days.  The  birds 
absolutely  would  not  approach  the  nest  while  I 
was  in  the  park.  The  first  morning  I  sat  mo- 
tionless for  nearly  two  hours,  and  not  a  feather 
showed  itself  near  that  bush;  it  was  plainly 
"  tabooed."  During  the  next  day  the  chat 
called  from  this  side  and  that,  moving  about  in 
his  wonderful  way,  without  disturbing  a  twig, 
rustling  a  leaf,  or  flitting  a  wing — as  silently, 
indeed,  as  if  he  were  a  spirit  unclothed. 

While  waiting  for  him  to  show  himself,  mak- 
ing myself  as  nearly  a  part  of  nature  about  me 
as  a  mortal  is  gifted  to  do,  I  congratulated  my- 
self upon  the  one  good  look  I  had  secured,  for, 
with  all  my  efforts  and  all  my  watching,  I  saw 
him  but  twice  more  all  summer.  The  enigma 


THE  MADDENING  CHAT.  49 

of  that  remarkable  voice  would  have  been  mad- 
dening- indeed,  if  I  could  not  have  known  to 
whom  it  belonged. 

After  several  days  of  untiring  observation  I 
had  but  two  glimpses  to  record.  On  one  occa- 
sion a  chat  alighted  on  the  top  sprig  of  the  fate- 
ful shrub,  as  if  going  to  the  nest,  but  almost  on 
the  instant  vanished.  The  same  day,  a  little 
later,  one  of  these  birds  flitted  into  my  view, 
without  a  sound.  So  perfectly  silent  were  his 
movements  that  I  should  not  have  seen  him  if 
he  had  not  come  directly  before  my  eyes.  He, 
or  she,  for  the  pair  are  alike,  alighted  in  a  low 
bush  and  scrambled  about  as  if  in  search  of  in- 
sects, climbing,  not  hopping.  He  stayed  but  a 
few  seconds  and  departed  like  a  shadow,  as  he 
had  come. 

On  the  tenth  day  after  my  discovery  of  the 
nest  with  its  trio  of  eggs  I  went  out  as  usual, 
for  I  could  not  abandon  hope.  In  passing  the 
nest  I  glanced  in  and  saw  one  egg ;  I  could 
never  see  but  one  as  I  went  by,  but,  not  liking 
to  go  too  near,  I  presumed  that  the  other  two 
were  there,  as  I  had  always  found  them,  and 
slipped  quietly  into  my  usual  place. 

In  a  few  moments  the  chat  shouted  a  call  so 
near  that  it  fairly  startled  me.  From  that  he 
went  on  to  make  his  ordinary  protest,  but,  as 
happened  nearly  every  time,  I  was  not  able  to 


50  IN  THE  EOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

see  him.  I  saw  something  —  something  that 
took  my  breath  away.  A  shadowy  form  creep- 
ing stealthily  through  the  shrubs  five  or  six  feet 
from  me.  It  glided  across  the  opening  in  front, 
and  in  a  moment  went  to  the  bush  I  was  watch- 
ing. In  silence,  but  with  evident  excitement,  it 
moved  about,  approached  the  nest,  and  in  a  few 
seconds  flew  quickly  across  the  path  in  plain 
sight,  holding  in  its  mouth  something  white 
which  was  large  for  its  beak.  I  was  reminded 
of  an  English  sparrow  carrying  a  piece  of  bread 
as  big  as  his  head,  a  sight  familiar  to  every  one. 
In  a  minute  or  two  the  same  bird,  or  his  twin, 
came  to  the  nest  again  and  disappeared  on  the 
other  side. 

When  I  left  my  place  to  go  home,  I  looked 
with  misgivings  into  the  nest  on  which  I  had 
built  so  many  hopes.  Lo  !  it  was  empty  ! 

Now  I  identified  that  stealthy  visitor  abso- 
lutely, but  I  shall  never  name  him.  I  have 
never  heard  him  accused  of  nest-robbing,  and  I 
shall  not  make  the  charge  ;  for  I  am  convinced 
that  the  chat  had  deserted  the  nest,  and  that 
this  abstractor  of  eggs  knew  it,  and  simply  took 
the  good  things  the  gods  threw  in  his  way  —  as 
would  the  best  of  us. 

After  that  unfortunate  ending  the  chat  dis- 
appeared from  the  little  park ;  but  a  week  later 
I  came  upon  him,  or  his  voice,  in  a  private  and 


FAREWELL  TO  THE  BEWITCHING  BIRD.     51 

rarely  visited  pasture  down  the  road,  where 
many  clumps  of  small  trees  and  much  low 
growth  offered  desirable  nesting  -  places.  He 
made  his  usual  protest,  and  feeling  that  I  had 
been  the  cause  of  the  tragedy  of  the  first  nest, 
though  I  had  grieved  over  it  as  much  as  the 
owners  could,  the  least  I  could  do,  to  show  my 
regret,  was  to  take  myself  and  my  curiosity  out 
of  his  neighborhood.  So  I  retired  at  once,  and 
left  the  whole  broad  pasture  to  the  incorrigible 
chat  family,  who,  I  hope,  succeeded  at  last  in 
enriching  the  world  by  half  a  dozen  more  of 
their  bewitching  kind. 


V. 

A  FEAST  OF  FLOWERS. 

When  first  the  crocus  thrusts  its  point  of  gold 
Up  through  the  still  snow-drifted  garden  mould, 
And  folded  green  things  in  dim  woods  unclose 
Their  crinkled  spears,  a  sudden  tremor  goes 
Into  my  veins  and  makes  me  kith  and  kin 
To  every  wild-born  thing  that  thrills  and  blows. 

T.  B.  ALDRICH. 

MY  feast  of  flowers  began  before  I  entered 
Colorado.  For  half  the  breadth  of  Kansas  the 
banks  of  the  railroad  were  heavenly  blue  with 
clustered  blossoms  of  the  spiderwort.  I  remem- 
ber clumps  of  this  flower  in  my  grandmother's 
old-fashioned  garden,  but  my  wildest  dreams 
never  pictured  miles  of  it,  so  profuse  that,  look- 
ing backward  from  the  train,  the  track  looked 
like  threads  of  steel  in  a  broad  ribbon  of  blue. 

Through  the  same  State,  also,  the  Western 
meadow-larks  kept  us  company,  and  I  shall 
never  again  think  of  "  bleeding  Kansas,"  but 
of  smiling  Kansas,  the  home  of  the  bluest  of 
blossoms  and  the  sweetest  of  singers.  The  lat- 
ter half  of  the  way  through  the  smiling  State 
was  golden  with  yellow  daisies  in  equal  abun- 


THE  PARADISE  OF  WILD-FLOWEES.      53 

dance,  and  beside  them  many  other  flowers. 
Beginning  at  noon,  I  counted  twenty-seven  vari- 
eties, so  near  the  track  that  I  could  distinguish 
them  as  we  rushed  past. 

The  Santa  Fe  road  enters  Colorado  in  a  pecu- 
liarly desolate  region.  Flowers  and  birds  appear 
to  have  stayed  behind  in  Kansas,  and  no  green 
thing  shows  its  head,  excepting  one  dismal-look- 
ing bush,  which  serves  only  to  accentuate  the 
poverty  of  the  soil.  As  we  go  on,  the  mud  is 
replaced  by  sand  and  stones,  from  gravel  up 
to  big  bowlders,  and  flowers  begin  to  struggle 
up  through  the  unpromising  ground. 

Nothing  is  more  surprising  than  the  amazing 
profusion  of  wild-flowers  which  this  apparently 
ungenial  soil  produces.  Of  a  certainty,  if  Colo- 
rado is  not  the  paradise  of  wild-flowers,  it  is 
incomparably  richer  in  them  than  any  State 
east  of  the  Mississippi  River  and  north  of 
"Mason  and  Dixon's  Line."  To  begin  with, 
there  is  a  marvelous  variety.  Since  I  have 
taken  note  of  them,  from  about  the  10th  of 
June  till  nearly  the  same  date  in  July,  I  have 
found  in  my  daily  walk  of  not  more  than  a  mile 
or  two,  each  time  from  one  to  seven  new  kinds. 
A  few  days  I  have  found  seven,  many  times  I 
have  brought  home  four,  and  never  has  a  day 
passed  without  at  least  one  I  had  not  seen  be- 
fore. That  will  average,  at  a  low  estimate, 


54  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

about  a  hundred  varieties  of  flowers  in  a  month, 
and  all  within  a  radius  of  four  miles.  What 
neighborhood  can  produce  a  record  equal  to 
this? 

Then,  again,  the  blossoms  themselves  are  so 
abundant.  Hardly  a  root  contents  itself  with 
a  single  flower.  The  moccasin-plant  is  the  only 
one  I  have  noticed  as  yet.  One  root  will  usu- 
ally send  up  from  one  to  a  dozen  stems,  fairly 
loaded  with  buds  —  like  the  yucca  —  which  open 
a  few  every  day,  and  thus  keep  in  bloom  for 
weeks.  Or  if  there  is  but  one  stem,  it  will  be 
packed  with  buds  from  the  ground  to  the  tip, 
with  new  ones  to  come  out  for  every  blossom 
that  falls. 

One  in  the  vase  on  my  stand  at  this  moment 
is  of  this  sort.  It  is  a  stem  that  sometimes 
attains  a  height  of  four  or  five  feet.  I  think 
it  lengthens  as  long  as  it  is  blossoming,  and,  to 
look  at  its  preparations,  that  must  be  all  sum- 
mer. Every  two  or  three  inches  of  the  stout 
stem  is  a  whorl  of  leaves  and  buds  and  blos- 
soms. Except  the  number  of  buds,  it  is  all  in 
fours.  Opposite  each  other,  making  a  cross, 
are  four  leaves,  like  a  carnation  leaf  at  first, 
but  broadening  and  lengthening  till  it  is  two 
inches  at  the  base  and  eight  or  ten  long.  Ris- 
ing out  of  the  axil  of  each  leaf  are  buds,  of 
graduated  size  and  development  up  to  the  open 


A  SYMPHONY  IN  GREEN.  55 

blossom.  That  one  stem,  therefore,  is  prepared 
to  open  fresh  flowers  every  day  for  a  long  time. 

The  plant  is  exquisitely  beautiful,  for  the 
whole  thing,  from  the  stem  to  the  flower  petals, 
is  of  a  delicate,  light  pea-green.  The  blossom 
opens  like  a  star,  with  four  stamens  and  four 
petals.  The  description  sounds  mathematical, 
but  the  plant  is  graceful  —  a  veritable  sym- 
phony in  green. 

A  truly  royal  bouquet  stands  on  my  table  — 
three  spikes  of  yucca  flowers  in  a  tall  vase,  the 
middle  one  three  feet  high,  bearing  fifty  blos- 
soms and  buds,  of  large  size  and  a  pink  color ; 
on  its  right,  one  a  little  less  in  size,  with  long 
creamy  cups  fully  open  ;  and  on  the  left  another, 
set  with  round  greenish  balls,  not  so  open  as 
cups.  They  are  distinctly  different,  but  each 
seems  more  exquisite  than  the  other,  and  their 
fragrance  fills  the  room.  In  fact  it  is  so  over- 
powering that  when  at  night  I  close  the  door 
opening  into  the  grove,  I  shut  the  vase  and  its 
contents  outside. 

This  grand  flower  is  the  glory  of  the  mesa  or 
table-land  at  the  foot  of  this  range  of  the  Rocky 
Mountains  —  the  Cheyenne  Range.  Where  no 
grass  —  that  we  name  grass  —  will  grow,  where 
trees  die  for  want  of  water,  these  noble  spikes 
of  flowers  dot  the  bare  plains  in  profusion. 

It  is  the  rich  possessor  of  three  names.     To 


56  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

the  flower-lover  it  is  the  yucca;  to  the  culti- 
vator, or  whosoever  meddles  with  its  leaves,  it 
is  the  Spanish-bayonet ;  to  the  utilitarian,  who 
values  a  thing  only  as  it  is  of  use  to  him,  it  is 
the  soap-weed  —  ignoble  name,  referring  to  cer- 
tain qualities  pertaining  to  its  roots.  When 
we  remember  that  this  flower  is  not  the  care- 
ful product  of  the  garden,  but  of  spontaneous 
growth  in  the  most  barren  and  hopeless-looking 
plains,  we  may  well  regard  it  as  a  type  of  Colo- 
rado's luxuriance  in  these  loveliest  of  nature's 
gifts. 

Of  a  surly  disposition  is  the  blossom  of  a 
cactus  —  the  "prickly-pear,"  as  we  call  it  in 
Eastern  gardens,  where  we  cultivate  it  for  its 
oddity,  I  suppose.  When  the  sojourner  in  this 
land  of  flowers  sees,  opening  on  all  sides  of 
this  inhospitable-looking  plant,  rich  cream-col- 
ored cups,  the  size  of  a  Jacqueminot  bud,  and 
of  a  rare,  satiny  sheen,  she  cannot  resist  the 
desire  to  fill  a  low  dish  with  them  for  her  table. 

Woe  to  her  if  she  attempts  to  gather  them 
"  by  hand  "  !  Properly  warned,  she  will  take  a 
knife,  sever  the  flower  from  the  pear  (there  is 
no  stem  to  speak  of),  pick  it  up  by  the  tip 
of  a  petal,  carry  it  home  in  a  paper  or  hand- 
kerchief, and  dump  it  gently  into  water  — 
happy  if  she  does  not  feel  a  dozen  intolerable 
prickles  here  and  there,  and  have  to  extract, 


OBSTINATE    CACTUS  BLOSSOMS.  57 

with  help  of  magnifying-glass  and  tweezers,  as 
many  needle-like  barbs  rankling  in  her  flesh. 
She  may  as  well  have  spared  herself  the  trouble. 
The  flowers  possess  the  uncompromising  nature 
of  the  stock  from  which  they  sprung ;  they  will 
speedily  shut  themselves  up  like  buds  again  — 
I  almost  believe  they  close  with  a  snap  —  and 
obstinately  refuse  to  display  their  satin  dra- 
peries to  delight  the  eyes  of  their  abductors. 
This  unlovely  spirit  is  not  common  among  Col- 
orado flowers  ;  most  of  them  go  on  blooming  in 
the  vase  day  after  day. 

Remarkable  are  the  places  in  which  the 
flowers  are  found.  Not  only  are  they  seen  in 
crevices  all  the  way  up  the  straight  side  of 
rocks,  where  one  would  hardly  think  a  seed 
could  lodge,  but  beside  the  roads,  between  the 
horses'  tracks,  and  on  the  edge  of  gutters  in 
the  streets  of  a  city.  One  can  walk  down  any 
street  in  Colorado  Springs  and  gather  a  bou- 
quet, lovely  and  fragrant,  choice  enough  to 
adorn  any  one's  table.  I  once  counted  twelve 
varieties  in  crossing  one  vacant  corner  lot  on 
the  principal  street. 

One  of  the  richest  wild  gardens  I  know  is  a 
bare,  open  spot  in  a  cottonwood  grove,  part  of  it 
tunneled  by  ants,  which  run  over  it  by  millions, 
and  the  rest  a  jumble  of  bowlders  and  wild  rose- 
bushes, impossible  to  describe.  In  this  spot, 


58  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

unshaded  from  the  burning  sun,  flourish  flowers 
innumerable.  Rosebushes,  towering  far  above 
one 's  head,  loaded  with  bloom ;  shrubs  of  sev- 
eral kinds,  equally  burdened  by  delicate  white 
or  pink  blossoms ;  the  ground  covered  with  foot- 
high  pentstemons,  blue  and  lavender,  in  which 
the  buds  fairly  get  in  each  other's  way;  and 
a  curious  plant  —  primrose,  I  believe  —  which 
opens  every  morning,  a  few  inches  from  the 
ground,  a  large  white  blossom  like  the  magnolia, 
turns  it  deep  pink,  and  closes  it  before  night ; 
several  kinds  of  yellow  flowers  ;  wild  geraniums, 
with  a  look  of  home  in  their  daintily  penciled 
petals ;  above  all,  the  wonderful  golden  colum- 
bine. I  despair  of  picturing  this  grand  flower 
to  eyes  accustomed  to  the  insignificant  colum- 
bine of  the  East.  The  blossom  is  three  times 
the  size  of  its  Eastern  namesake,  growing  in 
clumps  sometimes  three  feet  across,  with  thirty 
or  forty  stems  of  flowers  standing  two  and  a 
half  feet  high.  In  hue  it  is  a  delicate  straw 
color,  sometimes  all  one  tint,  sometimes  with 
outside  petals  of  snowy  white,  and  rarely  with 
those  outsiders  of  lavender.  It  is  a  red-letter 
day  when  the  flower-lover  comes  upon  a  clump 
of  the  lavender-leaved  columbine.  Far  up  in 
the  mountains  is  found  still  another  variety 
of  this  beautiful  flower,  with  outside  petals  of  a 
rich  blue.  This,  I  believe,  is  the  State  flower 
of  Colorado. 


DISCOVERIES  FOR  EVERY  DAY.         59 

I  am  surprised  at  the  small  number  of  flowers 
here  with  which  I  am  familiar.  I  think  there 
are  not  more  than  half  a  dozen  in  all  this  ex- 
traordinary "  procession  of  flowers  "  that  I  ever 
saw  before.  In  consequence,  every  day  promises 
discoveries,  every  walk  is  exciting  as  an  excur- 
sion into  unknown  lands,  each  new  find  is  a 
fresh  treasure. 


VI. 

A  CINDERELLA  AMONG  FLOWERS. 

Like  torches  lit  for  carnival, 
The  fiery  lilies  straight  and  tall 
Burn  where  the  deepest  shadow  is  ; 
Still  dance  the  columbines  cliff-hung, 
And  like  a  broidered  veil  outflung 
The  many-blossomed  clematis. 

SUSAN  COOLIDGE. 

A  HOUGH,  scraggy  plant,  with  unattractive, 
dark-green  foliage  and  a  profusion  of  buds 
standing  out  at  all  angles,  is,  in  July,  almost  the 
only  growing  thing  to  be  seen  on  the  barren- 
looking  mesa  around  Colorado  Springs.  Any- 
thing more  unpromising  can  hardly  be  ima- 
gined ;  the  coarsest  thistle  is  a  beauty  beside  it ; 
the  common  burdock  has  a  grace  of  growth  far 
beyond  it ;  the  meanest  weed  shows  a  color 
which  puts  it  to  shame.  Yet  if  the  curious  trav- 
eler pass  that  way  again,  late  in  the  afternoon, 
he  shall  find  that  "  Solomon  in  all  his  glory  was 
not  arrayed  like  one  of  these."  He  will  see  the 
bush  transfigured ;  its  angular  form  hidden  under 
a  mass  of  many  pointed  stars  of  snowy  white- 


A  FAIRY-STOEY  TRANSFORMATION.       61 

ness,  with  clusters  of  pale  gold  stamens.  Then 
will  stand  revealed  the  "  superb  mentzelia,"  a 
true  Cinderella,  fit  only  for  ignominious  uses  in 
the  morning,  but  a  suitable  bride  for  the  fairy 
prince  in  the  evening. 

To  look  at  the  wide-stretching  table-lands, 
where,  during  its  season,  this  fairy-story  trans- 
formation takes  place  daily,  so  burned  by  the 
sun,  and  swept  by  the  wind,  that  no  cultivated 
plant  will  flourish  on  it,  one  would  never  sus- 
pect that  it  is  the  scene  of  a  brilliant  "  proces- 
sion of  flowers  "  from  spring  to  fall.  "  There  is 
always  something  going  on  outdoors  worth  see- 
ing," says  Charles  Dudley  Warner,  and  of  no 
part  of  the  world  is  this  more  true  than  of  these 
apparently  desolate  plains  at  the  foot  of  the 
Rocky  Mountains.  Rich  is  the  reward  of  the 
daily  stroller,  not  only  in  the  inspiration  of  its 
pure,  bracing  air,  the  songs  of  its  meadow-larks, 
and  the  glory  of  its  grand  mountain  view,  but 
in  its  charming  flower  show. 

This  begins  with  the  anemone,  modest  and 
shy  like  our  own,  but  three  times  as  big,  and 
well  protected  from  the  sharp  May  breezes  by  a 
soft,  fluffy  silk  wrap.  Then  some  day  in  early 
June  the  walker  shall  note  groups  of  long, 
sword-shaped  leaves,  rising  in  clusters  here  and 
there  from  the  ground.  He  may  not  handle 
them  with  impunity,  for  they  are  strong  and 


62  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

sharp-edged,  and  somewhat  later  the  beauty  they 
are  set  to  guard  is  revealed.  A  stem  or  two, 
heavy  and  loaded  with  hard  green  balls,  pushes 
itself  up  among  them  day  by  day,  till  some 
morning  he  stands  spellbound  before  the  full- 
blown bells  of  the  yucca,  cream-tinted  or  pink, 
and  fragrant  as  the  breath  of  summer. 

Before  the  Nature-lover  is  tired  of  feasting 
his  eyes  upon  that  stately  flower,  shall  begin  to 
unfold  the  crumpled  draperies  of  the  great  Mex- 
ican poppy,  dotting  the  hillsides  and  the  mesa 
with  white,  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach.  Mean- 
while, the  earth  itself  shall  suddenly  turn  to  pink, 
and  a  close  look  disclose  a  tiny,  low-growing  blos- 
som, sweet  as  the  morning,  with  the  glow  of  the 
sunrise  in  its  face  ;  a  little  bunch  of  crazy-look- 
ing stamens,  and  tiny  snips  of  petals  standing 
out  at  all  angles,  and  of  all  shades  on  one  stem, 
from  white  to  deep  red;  the  whole  no  bigger 
than  a  gauzy-winged  fly,  and  shaped  not  unlike 
one,  with  a  delicious  odor  that  scents  the  air. 

Next  day  —  or  next  week  —  wandering  over 
the  pathless  barrens,  the  observer  may  come 
upon  a  group  of  cream-colored  satin  flowers, 
wide  open  to  the  sun,  innocent  looking  and 
most  tempting  to  gather.  But  the  great  fleshy 
leaves  from  which  they  spring  give  warning; 
they  belong  to  the  cactus  family,  and  are  well 
armed  to  protect  their  treasures  from  the  va- 


A  RIOT  OF  ROSES.  63 

grant  hand.  The  walker — if  he  be  wise  — 
will  content  himself  with  looking,  nor  seek  a 
nearer  acquaintance. 

While  these  royal  beauties  are  adorning  the 
highlands,  others,  perhaps  even  more  lovely, 
are  blooming  in  the  canons,  under  the  trees, 
and  beside  the  noisy  brooks.  First,  there  is  a 
"  riot  of  roses"  — the  only  expression  that  ade- 
quately suggests  the  profusion  of  these  beauti- 
ful flowers.  They  grow  in  enormous  bushes, 
far  above  one's  head,  in  impenetrable  thickets, 
extending  for  yards  each  way. 


Abloom  to  the  edges." 

Every  country  road  is  walled  in  by  them ;  every 
brookside  is  glorified  by  their  rich  masses  of 
color;  and  no  rocky  wall  is  so  bare  but  here 
and  there  a  tiny  shoot  finds  root,  and  open  its 
rosy  bloom.  All  these  bushes,  from  the  low- 
growing  sort  that  holds  its  mottled  and  shaded 
petals  three  inches  above  the  ground,  to  that 
whose  top  one  cannot  reach,  are  simply  loaded 
with  blossoms  of  all  shades,  from  nearly  white 
to  deepest  rose-color,  filling  the  air  with  per- 
fume. 

The  first  time  one  comes  upon  this  lavish  dis- 
play, he  —  or  more  probably  she  —  picks  a 
spray  from  the  first  bush  ;  she  cannot  resist  the 
next  variety,  and  before  she  knows  it  her  arms 


64  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

are  full,  with  temptations  as  strong  as  ever  before 
her.  She  may  at  last,  like  "  H.  H.,"  take  home 
her  roses  by  the  carriage  load,  or,  overwhelmed 
by  their  numbers,  leave  them  all  on  their  stems, 
and  enjoy  them  in  mass. 

Shyly  hiding  under  the  taller  shrubs  beside 
the  running  water,  the  experienced  seeker  will 
find  the  gilia,  one  of  the  gems  of  Colorado's 
bouquet.  This  plant  consists  of  one  slender 
stem  two  feet  or  more  tall,  swayed  by  every 
breeze,  and  set  for  several  inches  of  its  length 
with  daintiest  blossoms,  — 

"  Like  threaded  rubies  on  its  stem." 

They  are  like  fairy  trumpets,  in  many  shades, 
from  snow  white  to  deep  rose,  and  brilliant 
scarlet,  with  great  variety  of  delicate  marking 
visible  only  under  a  glass.  The  stem  is  so 
sticky  that  the  flowers  must  be  arranged  as 
they  are  gathered  ;  for  they  cling  to  each  other 
more  closely  than  the  fabled  "brother,"  and 
an  attempt  to  separate  them  will  result  in  torn 
flowers. 

Anything  more  exquisite  than  a  vase  of  gilias 
alone  is  rarely  seen.  The  buds  are  as  lovely  as 
the  blossoms  ;  new  ones  open  every  day,  and 
even  the  faded  ones  are  not  unsightly  ;  their 
petals  are  simply  turned  backward  a  little.  One 
minute  every  morning  spent  in  snipping  off 
blossoms  that  are  past  their  prime  insures  the 


".ff.  fl.'S"  FLOWER.  65 

happy  possessor  a  bouquet  that  is  a  joy  forever, 
even  in  memory ;  lovely  and  fresh,  in  ever- 
changing  combinations  of  color  and  form. 

Some  day  shall  be  made  memorable  to  the 
enthusiast  by  the  discovery  of  a  flower  which 
should  be  named  for  "  H.  H.,"  —  the  one  which 
looked  so  charming  from  the  moving  train  that 
her  winning  tongue  brought  the  iron  horse  to  a 
pause  while  it  was  gathered,  "  root  and  branch," 
for  her  delectation.  Finding  the  gorgeous  spike 
of  golden  blossoms  without  a  common  name,  she 
called  it  —  most  happily  —  the  golden  prince's 
feather.  It  is  to  be  presumed  that  it  has  an 
unwieldy  scientific  cognomen  in  the  botanies ; 
but  I  heard  of  no  common  one,  except  that  given 
by  the  poet. 

While  this  royal  flower  is  still  in  bloom,  may 
be  found  the  mariposa,  or  butterfly  lily,  small 
and  low  on  the  burning  mesa,  but  more  gener- 
ous in  size,  and  richer  of  hue,  in  the  shaded 
canons. 

"  Like  a  bubble  borne  in  air 

Floats  the  shy  Mariposa's  bell," 

says  Susan  Coolidge  in  her  beautiful  tribute  to 
her  beloved  friend  and  poet.  The  three  petals 
of  this  exquisite  flower  form  a  graceful  cup  of 
differing  degrees  of  violet  hue,  some  being 
nearly  white,  with  the  color  massed  in  a  rich, 
deep-toned  crescent,  low  down  at  the  heart  of 


66  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

each  petal,  while  others  are  glowing  in  the  most 
regal  purple. 

All  these  weeks,  too,  have  been  blossoming 
dozens,  yes,  hundreds  of  others ;  every  nook 
and  corner  is  full  ;  every  walk  brings  surprises. 
Some  of  our  most  familiar  friends  are  wanting. 
One  is  not  surprised  that  the  most  common  way- 
side flower  of  that  golden  region  is  the  yellow 
daisy,  or  sunflower  it  is  called ;  but  she  remem- 
bers fondly  our  fields  of  white  daisies,  and 
clumps  of  gay  little  buttercups,  and  she  longs 
for  cheery -faced  dandelions  beside  her  path.  A 
few  of  the  latter  she  may  find,  much  larger  and 
more  showy  than  ours  ;  but  these  —  it  is  said  in 
Colorado  Springs  —  are  all  from  seed  imported 
by  an  exile  for  health's  sake,  who  pined  for  the 
flowers  of  home. 

Several  peculiarities  of  Colorado  flowers  are 
noteworthy.  Some  have  gummy  or  sticky  stems, 
like  the  gilia,  already  mentioned,  and  others 
again  are  "  clinging,"  by  means  of  a  certain 
roughness  of  stem  and  leaf.  The  mentzelia  is 
of  this  nature  ;  half  a  dozen  stalks  can  with 
difficulty  be  separated ;  and  they  seem  even  to 
attract  any  light  substance,  like  fringe  or  lace, 
holding  so  closely  to  it  that  they  must  be  torn 
apart. 

Many  of  the  prettiest  flowers  are,  like  our 
milkweed,  nourished  by  a  milky  juice,  and  when 


PLANT  ECCENTRICITIES.  67 

severed  from  the  parent  stem,  not  only  weep 
thick  white  tears,  which  stain  the  hands  and  the 
garments,  but  utterly  refuse  to,  subsist  on  water, 
and  begin  at  once  to  droop.  Is  it  the  vitality  in 
the  air  which  forces  even  the  plants  to  eccentri- 
cities ?  Or  can  it  be  that  they  have  not  yet 
been  subdued  into  uniformity  like  ours  ?  Are 
they  unconventional  —  nearer  to  wild  Nature  ? 
So  queries  an  unscientific  lover  of  them  all. 

This  slight  sketch  of  a  few  flowers  gives 
hardly  a  hint  of  the  richness  of  Colorado's  flora. 
No  words  can  paint  the  profusion  and  the 
beauty.  I  have  not  here  even  mentioned  some 
of  the  most  notable :  the  great  golden  colum- 
bine, the  State  flower^  to  which  our  modest  blos- 
som is  an  insignificant  weed  ; 

"  The  fairy  lilies,  straight  and  tall, 
Like  torches  lit  for  carnival ;  " 

the  primrose,  opening  at  evening  a  disk  three 
or  four  inches  across,  loaded  with  richest  per- 
fume, and  changed  to  odorless  pink  before 
morning ;  exquisite  vetches,  with  bloom  like 
our  sweet  pea,  and  of  more  than  fifty  varieties ; 
harebells  in  great  clumps,  and  castilleias  which 
dot  the  State  with  scarlet ;  rosy  cyclamens  "  on 
long,  lithe  stems  that  soar ; "  and  mertensias, 
whose  delicate  bells,  blue  as  a  baby's  eyes,  turn 
day  by  day  to  pink  ;  the  cleome,  which  covers 
Denver  with  a  purple  veil ;  the  whole  family  of 
pentstemons,  and  hundreds  of  others. 


68  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

An  artist  in  Colorado  Springs,  who  has  given 
her  heart,  almost  her  life,  to  fixing  in  imperish- 
able color  the  floral  wealth  about  her,  has 
painted  over  three  hundred  varieties  of  Colo- 
rado wild-flowers,  and  her  list  is  still  incomplete. 

It  is  not  pleasant  to  mar  this  record  of  beauty, 
but  one  thing  must  be  mentioned.  The  lux- 
uriance of  the  flowers  is  already  greatly  dimin- 
ished by  the  unscrupulousness  of  the  tourists 
who  swarm  in  the  flower  season,  especially,  I  am 
sorry  to  say,  women.  Not  content  with  filling 
their  hands  with  flowers,  they  fill  their  arms  and 
even  their  carriage,  if  they  have  one.  More- 
over, the  hold  of  the  plant  on  the  light,  sandy 
soil  is  very  slight ;  and  the  careless  gatherer,  not 
provided  with  knife  or  scissors,  will  almost  inva- 
riably pull  the  root  with  the  flower,  thus  totally 
annihilating  that  plant.  When  one  witnesses 
such  greediness,  and  remembers  that  these  van- 
dals are  in  general  on  the  wing,  and  cannot  stay 
to  enjoy  what  they  have  rifled,  but  will  leave  it 
all  to  be  thrown  out  by  hotel  servants  the  next 
morning,  he  cannot  wonder  at  the  indignation 
of  the  residents  toward  the  traveler,  nor  that 
"  No  admittance  "  notices  are  put  up,  and  big 
dogs  kept,  and  that  "  tourist "  is  a  name  synon- 
ymous with  "  plunderer,"  and  bitterly  hated  by 
the  people. 

I  have  seen  a  party  of  ladies  —  to  judge  by 


THE  GREEDY  TOURIST.  69 

their  looks  —  with  arms  so  full  of  the  golden 
columbine  that  it  seemed  they  could  not  hold 
another  flower,  whose  traveling  dress  and  equip- 
ments showed  them  to  be  mere  transient  passers 
through,  who  could  not  possibly  make  use  of 
so  many.  Half  a  dozen  blossoms  would  have 
given  as  much  pleasure  as  half  a  hundred,  and  be 
much  more  easily  cared  for,  besides  leaving  a 
few  for  their  successors  to  enjoy.  The  result 
is,  of  course,  plain  to  see  :  a  few  more  years  of 
plunder,  and  Colorado  will  be  left  bare,  and  lose 
half  her  charm. 

One  beautiful  place  near  Colorado  Springs, 
Glen  Eyrie,  belonging  to  General  Palmer,  was 
generously  left  open  for  every  one  to  enjoy  by 
driving  through;  but,  incredible  as  it  seems, 
his  hospitality  was  so  abused,  his  lovely  grounds 
rifled,  not  only  of  wild-flowers,  but  even  of  cul- 
tivated flowers  and  plants,  that  he  was  forced  at 
last  to  put  up  notices  that  the  public  was  al- 
lowed to  "  drive  through  without  dismounting." 


vn. 

CLIFF-DWELLERS  IN  THE  CA&OK 

Glad 

With  light  as  with  a  garment  it  is  clad 
Each  dawn,  before  the  tardy  plains  have  won 
One  ray  ;  and  often  after  day  has  long  been  done 
For  us,  the  light  doth  cling  reluctant,  sad  to  leave  its  brow. 

H.  H. 

THE  happiest  day  of  my  summer  in  the 
Rocky  Mountains  was  passed  in  the  heart  of 
a  mountain  consecrated  by  the  songs  and  the 
grave  of  its  lover,  "  H.  H.,"  — beautiful  Chey- 
enne, the  grandest  and  the  most  graceful  of  its 
range. 

Camp  Harding,  my  home  for  the  season,  in 
its  charming  situation,  has  already  been  de- 
scribed. The  fortunate  dwellers  in  this  "  happy 
valley  "  were  blessed  with  two  delectable  walks, 
"  down  the  road  "  and  "  up  the  road."  Down 
the  road  presented  an  enchanting  procession  of 
flowers,  which  changed  from  day  to  day  as  the 
season  advanced ;  to-day  the  scarlet  castilleia, 
or  painter's-brush,  flaming  out  of  the  coarse 
grasses;  to-morrow  the  sand  lily,  lifting  its 


UP  INTO  THE  CANON.  71 

dainty  face  above  the  bare  sand  ;  next  week 
the  harebell,  in  great  clumps,  nodding  across  the 
field,  and  next  month  the  mariposa  or  butter- 
fly lily,  just  peeping  from  behind  the  brush,  — 
with  dozens  of  others  to  keep  them  company. 
As  one  went  on,  the  fields  grew  broader,  the 
walls  of  the  mesa  lowered  and  drew  apart,  till 
the  canon  was  lost  in  the  wide,  open  country. 

This  was  the  favorite  evening  walk,  with  all 
the  camp  dogs  in  attendance,  —  the  nimble  grey- 
hound, the  age-stiffened  and  sedate  spaniel,  the 
saucy,  ill-bred  bull-terrier,  and  the  nai've  baby 
pug.  The  loitering  walk  usually  ended  at  the 
red  farmhouse  a  mile  away,  and  the  walkers 
returned  to  the  camp  in  the  gloaming,  loaded 
with  flowers,  saturated  with  the  delicious  moun- 
tain air,  and  filled  with  a  peace  that  passeth 
words. 

Up  the  road  led  into  the  mountain,  under 
thick-crowding  trees,  between  frowning  rocks, 
ever  growing  higher  and  drawing  nearer  to- 
gether, till  the  carriage  road  became  a  burro 
track,  and  then  a  footpath ;  now  this  side  the 
boisterous  brook,  then  crossing  by  a  log  or  two 
to  the  other  side,  and  ending  in  the  heart  of 
Cheyenne  in  a  cul-dc-sac,  whose  high  perpendic- 
ular sides  could  be  scaled  only  by  flights  of 
steps  built  against  the  rocks.  From  high  up  the 
mountain,  into  this  immense  rocky  basin,  came 


72  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

the  brook  Shining  Water,  in  seven  tremendous 
leaps,  each  more  lovely  than  the  last,  and  reached 
at  bottom  a  deep  stone  bowl,  which  flung  it  out 
in  a  shower  of  spray  forbidding  near  approach, 
and  keeping  the  rocks  forever  wet. 

The  morning  walk  was  up  the  road,  in  the 
grateful  shade  of  the  trees,  between  the  cool 
rocks,  beside  the  impetuous  brook.  This  last 
was  an  ever  fresh  source  of  interest  and  pleas- 
ure, for  nothing  differs  more  widely  from  an 
Eastern  brook  than  its  Western  namesake.  The 
terms  we  apply  to  our  mountain  rivulets  do  not 
at  all  describe  a  body  of  water  on  its  way  down 
a  Rocky  Mountain  valley.  It  does  not  murmur, 
—  it  roars  and  brawls ;  it  cannot  ripple,  —  it 
rages  and  foams  about  the  bowlders  that  lie  in 
its  path.  The  name  of  a  Colorado  mountain 
stream,  the  Roaring  Fork,  exactly  character- 
izes it. 

One  warm  morning  in  June,  a  small  party 
from  the  camp  set  out  for  a  walk  up  the  road. 
By  easy  stages,  resting  here  and  there  on  con- 
venient rocks,  beguiled  at  every  step  by  some- 
thing more  beautiful  just  ahead,  they  pen- 
etrated to  the  end  of  the  canon.  Of  that 
party  I  was  one,  and  it  was  my  first  visit.  I 
was  alternately  in  raptures  over  the  richness  of 
color,  the  glowing  red  standstone  against  the 
violet-blue  sky,  and  thrilled  by  the  grandeur 


A   WIND-SOWN  GARDEN.  73 

of  places  which  looked  as  if  the  whole  mountain 
had  been  violently  rent  asunder. 

But  no  emotion  whatever,  no  beauty,  no 
sublimity  even,  can  make  me  insensible  to  a 
bird  note.  Just  at  the  entrance  to  the  Pillars 
of  Hercules,  two  towering  walls  of  perpendicu- 
lar rock  that  approach  each  other  almost  threat- 
eningly, as  if  they  would  close  up  and  crush 
between  them  the  rash  mortal  who  dared  to 
penetrate  farther,  —  in  that  impressive  spot, 
while  I  lingered,  half  yielding  to  a  mysterious 
hesitation  about  entering  the  strange  portal,  a 
bird  song  fell  upon  my  ear.  It  was  a  plaintive 
warble,  that  sounded  far  away  up  the  stern 
cliff  above  my  head.  It  seemed  impossible  that 
a  bird  could  find  a  foothold,  or  be  in  any  way 
attracted  by  those  bare  walls,  yet  I  turned  my 
eyes,  and  later  my  glass  that  way. 

At  first  nothing  was  to  be  seen  save,  part 
way  up  the  height,  an  exquisite  bit  of  nature. 
In  a  niche  that  might  have  been  scooped  out  by 
a  mighty  hand,  where  scarcely  a  ray  of  sunlight 
could  penetrate,  and  no  human  touch  could 
make  or  mar,  were  growing,  and  blooming  luxu- 
riantly, a  golden  columbine,  Colorado's  pride 
and  glory,  a  rosy  star-shaped  blossom  unknown 
to  me,  and  a  cluster  of 

"  Proud  cyclamens  on  long,  lithe  stems  that  soar." 

When  I  could  withdraw  my  eyes  from  this 


74  IN  TEE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

dainty  wind-sown  garden,  I  sought  the  singer, 
who  proved  to  be  a  small  brown  bird  with  a 
conspicuous  white  throat,  flitting  about  on  the 
face  of  the  rock,  apparently  quite  at  home,  and 
constantly  repeating  his  few  notes.  His  song 
was  tender  and  bewitching  in  its  effect,  though 
it  was  really  simple  in  construction,  being 
merely  nine  notes,  the  first  uttered  twice,  and 
the  remaining  eight  in  descending  chromatic 
scale. 

Now  and  then  the  tiny  songster  disappeared 
in  what  looked  like  a  slight  crack  in  the  wall, 
but  instantly  reappeared,  and  resumed  his  siren 
strains.  Spellbound  I  stood,  looking  and  listen- 
ing ;  but  alas !  the  hour  was  late,  the  way  was 
long,  and  others  were  waiting  ;  I  needs  must 
tear  myself  away.  "To-morrow  I  will  come 
again,"  I  said,  as  I  turned  back.  "  To-morrow 
I  shall  be  here  alone,  and  spend  the  whole  day 
with  the  canon  wren." 

Then  we  retraced  our  steps  of  the  morning, 
lingering  among  the  pleasant  groves  of  cotton- 
wood,  oak,  and  aspen ;  pausing  to-  admire  the 
cactus  display  of  gorgeous  yellow,  with  petals 
widespread,  yet  so  wedded  to  their  wildness  that 
they  resented  the  touch  of  a  human  hand,  re- 
sisting their  ravisher  with  needle-like  barbs, 
and  then  sullenly  drawing  together  their  satin 
petals  and  refusing  to  open  them  more ;  past 


SOLITARY  POSSESSION  OF  THE  C Aft  ON.    75 

great  thickets  of  wild  roses,  higher  than  our 
heads  and  fragrant  as  the  morning;  beside 
close-growing  bushes,  where  hid  the 

"  Golden  cradle  of  the  moccasin  flower," 

and  the  too  clever  yellow-breasted  chat  had 
mocked  and  defied  me ;  and  so  home  to  the 
camp. 

At  an  early  hour  the  next  morning,  the  car- 
riage of  my  hostess  set  me  down  at  the  entrance 
of  Cheyenne  Canon  proper,  with  the  impedi- 
menta necessary  for  a  day's  isolation  from  civ- 
ilization. I  passed  through  the  gate,  —  for  even 
this  grand  work  of  nature  is  claimed  as  private 
property ;  but,  happily,  through  good  sense  or 
indifference,  "  improvements "  have  not  been 
attempted,  and  one  forgets  the  gate  and  the 
gate-keeper  as  soon  as  they  are  passed. 

Entering  at  that  unnatural  hour,  and  alone, 
leaving  the  last  human  being  behind, —  staring  in 
astonishment,  by  the  way,  at  my  unprecedented 
proceeding,  —  I  began  to  realize,  as  I  walked  up 
the  narrow  path,  that  the  whole  grand  canon, 
winding  perhaps  a  mile  into  the  heart  of  this 
most  beautiful  of  the  Rocky  Mountains,  was 
mine  alone  for  three  hours.  Indeed,  when  the 
time  arrived  for  tourists  to  appear,  so  little 
did  I  concern  myself  with  them  that  they  might 
have  been  a  procession  of  spectres  passing  by ; 
so,  in  effect,  the  canon  was  my  solitary  posses- 
sion for  nine  blissful  hours. 


76  IN  THE  BOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

The  delights  of  that  perfect  day  cannot  be 
put  into  words.  Strolling  up  the  path,  filled 
with  an  inexpressible  sense  of  ownership  and 
seclusion  from  all  the  world,  I  first  paused  in 
the  neighborhood  of  the  small  cliff-dweller 
whose  music  had  charmed  me,  and  suggested 
the  enchanting  idea  of  spending  a  day  with  him 
in  his  retreat.  I  seated  myself  opposite  the 
forbidding  wall  where  the  bird  had  hovered, 
apparently  so  much  at  home.  All  was  silent ; 
no  singer  to  be  heard,  no  wren  to  be  seen.  The 
sun,  which  turned  the  tops  of  the  Pillars  to  gold 
as  I  entered,  crept  down  inch  by  inch  till  it  beat 
upon  my  head  and  clothed  the  rock  in  a  ||d 
glory.  Still  no  bird  appeared.  High  above  tbe 
top  of  the  rocks,  in  the  clear  thin  air  of  the 
mountain,  a  flock  of  swallows  wheeled  and 
sported,  uttering  an  unfamiliar  two-note  call; 
butterflies  fluttered  irresolute,  looking  frivolous 
enough  in  the  presence  of  the  eternal  hills ; 
gauzy-winged  dragonflies  zigzagged  to  and  fro, 
their  intense  blue  gleaming  in  the  sun.  The 
hour  for  visitors  drew  near,  and  my  precious 
solitude  was  fast  slipping  away. 

Slowiy  then  I  walked  up  the  canon,  looking 
for  my  singer.  Humming-birds  were  hovering 
before  the  bare  rock  as  before  a  flower,  perhaps 
sipping  the  water-drops  that  here  and  there 
trickled  down,  and  large  hawks,  like  mere  specks 


FOOL  OB  PHILOSOPHER?  11 

against  the  blue,  were  soaring,  but  no  wren 
could  I  see.  At  last  I  reached  the  end,  with 
its  waterfall  fountain.  Close  within  this  cease- 
less sprinkle,  on  a  narrow  ledge  that  was  never 
dry,  was  placed  —  I  had  almost  said  grew  —  a 
bird's  nest ;  whose,  it  were  needless  to  ask.  One 
American  bird,  and  one  only,  chooses  perpetual 
dampness  for  his  environment,  —  the  American 
dipper,  or  water  ouzel. 

Here  I  paused  to  muse  over  the  spray-soaked 
cradle  on  the  rock.  In  this  strange  place  had 
lived  a  bird  so  eccentric  that  he  prefers  not 
only  to  nest  under  a  continuous  shower,  through 
which  he  must  constantly  pass,  but  to  spend 
most  of  his  life  in,  not  on  the  water.  Shall  we 
call  him  a  fool  or  a  philosopher  ?  Is  the  water 
a  protection,  and  from  what  ?  Has  "  damp, 
moist  unpleasantness "'  no  terrors  for  his  fine 
feathers  ?  Where  now  were  the  nestlings  whose 
lullaby  had  been  the  music  of  the  falling  waters  ? 
Down  that  sheer  rock,  perhaps  into  the  water  at 
its  foot,  had  been  the  first  flight  of  the  ouzel 
baby.  Why  had  I  come  too  late  to  see  him  ? 

But  the  hours  were  passing,  while  I  had  not 
seen,  and,  what  was  worse,  had  not  heard  my 
first  charmer,  the  canon  wren.  Leaving  these 
perplexing  conundrums  unsolved,  I  turned  slowly 
back  down  the  walk,  to  resume  my  search.  Per- 
haps fifty  feet  from  the  ouzel  nest,  as  I  lingered 


78  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

to  admire  the  picturesque  rapids  in  the  brook,  a 
slight  movement  drew  my  attention  to  a  little 
projection  on  a  stone,  not  six  feet  from  me, 
where  a  small  chipmunk  sat  pertly  up,  holding 
in  his  two  hands,  and  eagerly  nibbling  —  was  it, 
could  it  be  a  strawberry  in  this  rocky  place  ? 

Of  course  I  stopped  instantly  to  look  at  this 
pretty  sight.  I  judged  him  to  be  a  youngster, 
partly  because  of  his  evident  fearlessness  of  his 
hereditary  enemy,  a  human  being;  more  on 
account  of  the  saucy  way  in  which  he  returned 
my  stare ;  and  most,  perhaps,  from  the  appear- 
ance of  absorbing  delight,  in  which  there  was 
a  suggestion  of  the  unexpected,  with  which  he 
discussed  that  sweet  morsel.  Closely  I  watched 
him  as  he  turned  the  treasure  round  and  round 
in  his  deft  little  paws,  and  at  last  dropped  the 
rifled  hull.  Would  he  go  for  another,  and 
where  ?  In  an  instant,  with  a  parting  glance  at 
me,  to  make  sure  that  I  had  not  moved,  he 
scrambled  down  his  rocky  throne,  and  bounded 
in  great  leaps  over  the  path  to  a  crumpled 
paper,  which  I  saw  at  once  was  one  of  the  bags 
with  which  tourists  sow  the  earth.  But  its  pres- 
ence there  did  not  rouse  in  my  furry  friend  the 
indignation  it  excited  in  me.  To  him  it  was  a 
treasure-trove,  for  into  it  he  disappeared  without 
a  moment's  hesitation;  and  almost  before  I 
had  jumped  to  the  conclusion  that  it  contained 


UNIQUE  STRAWBERRY  FESTIVAL.        79 

the  remains  of  somebody's  luncheon,  he  reap- 
peared, holding  in  his  mouth  another  straw- 
berry, bounded  over  the  ground  to  his  former 
seat,  and  proceeded  to  dispose  of  that  one,  also. 
The  scene  was  so  charming  and  his  pleasure  so 
genuine  that  I  forgave  the  careless  traveler  on 
the  spot,  and  only  wished  I  had  a  kodak  to 
secure  a  permanent  picture  of  this  unique  straw- 
berry festival. 

As  I  loitered  along,  gazing  idly  at  the  brook, 
ever  listening  and  longing  for  the  wren  song,  I 
was  suddenly  struck  motionless  by  a  loud,  shrill, 
and  peculiar  cry.  It  was  plainly  a  bird  voice, 
and  it  seemed  to  come  almost  from  the  stream 
itself.  It  ceased  in  a  moment,  and  then  fol- 
lowed a  burst  of  song,  liquid  as  the  singing  of 
the  brook,  and  enchantingly  sweet,  though  very 
low.  I  was  astounded.  Who  could  sing  like 
that  up  in  this  narrow  mountain  gorge,  where  I 
supposed  the  canon  wren  was  king? 

At  the  point  where  I  stood,  a  straggling 
shrub,  the  only  one  for  rods,  hung  over  the 
brink.  I  silently  sank  to  a  seat  behind  it,  lest 
I  disturb  the  singer,  and  remained  without 
movement.  The  baffling  carol  went  on  for  some 
seconds,  and  for  the  only  time  in  my  life  I 
wished  I  could  put  a  spell  upon  brook-babble, 
that  I  might  the  better  hear. 

Cautiously  I  raised  my  glass  to  my  eyes,  and 


80  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

examined  the  rocks  across  the  water,  probably 
eight  feet  from  me.  Then  arose  again  that 
strange  cry,  and  at  the  same  instant  my  eye  fell 
upon  a  tiny  ledge,  level  with  the  water,  and  per- 
haps six  inches  long,  on  which  stood  a  small 
fellow-creature  in  great  excitement.  He  was 
engaged  in  what  I  should  call  "  curtsying " ; 
that  is,  bending  his  leg  joint,  and  dropping  his 
plump  little  body  for  a  second,  then  bobbing  up 
to  his  fullest  height,  repeating  the  performance 
constantly,  —  looking  eagerly  out  over  the  water 
the  while,  evidently  expecting  somebody.  This 
was  undoubtedly  the  bird's  manner  of  begging 
for  food,  —  a  very  pretty  and  well-bred  way,  too, 
vastly  superior  to  the  impetuous  calls  and  de- 
mands of  some  young  birds.  The  movement 
was  "  dipping,"  of  course,  and  he  was  the  dip- 
per, or  ouzel  baby,  that  had  been  cradled  in  that 
fountain-dashed  nest  by  the  fall.  He  was  not 
long  out  of  it,  either ;  for  though  fully  dressed 
in  his  modest  slate-color,  with  white  feet,  and 
white  edgings  to  many  of  his  feathers,  he  had 
hardly  a  vestige  of  a  tail.  He  was  a  winsome 
baby,  for  all  that. 

While  I  studied  the  points  of  the  stranger, 
breathless  lest  he  should  disappear  before  my 
eyes,  he  suddenly  burst  out  with  the  strange  call 
I  had  heard.  It  was  clearly  a  cry  of  joy,  of  wel- 
come, for  out  of  the  water,  up  on  to  the  ledge  be- 


AN  EXQUISITE  SONG.  81 

side  him,  scrambled  at  that  moment  a  grown-up 
ouzel.  He  gave  one  poke  into  the  wide-open 
mouth  of  the  infant,  then  slipped  back  into  the 
water,  dropped  down  a  foot  or  more,  climbed 
out  upon  another  little  shelf  in  the  rock,  and  in 
a  moment  the  song  arose.  I  watched  the  singer 
closely.  The  notes  were  so  low  and  so  mingled 
with  the  roar  of  the  brook  that  even  then  I 
should  not  have  been  certain  he  was  uttering 
them  if  I  had  not  seen  his  throat  and  mouth 
distinctly.  The  song  was  really  exquisite,  and 
as  much  in  harmony  with  the  melody  of  the 
stream  as  the  voice  of  the  English  sparrow  is 
with  the  city  sounds  among  which  he  dwells, 
and  the  plaintive  refrain  of  the  meadow-lark 
with  the  low-lying,  silent  fields  where  he  spends 
his  days. 

But  little  cared  baby  ouzel  for  music,  how- 
ever ravishing.  What  to  his  mind  was  far 
more  important  was  food,  —  in  short,  worms. 
His  pretty  begging  continued,  and  the  daring 
notion  of  attempting  a  perilous  journey  over  the 
foot  of  water  that  separated  him  from  his  papa 
plainly  entered  his  head.  He  hurried  back  and 
forth  on  the  brink  with  growing  agitation,  and 
was  seemingly  about  to  plunge  in,  when  the 
singer  again  entered  the  water,  brought  up  an- 
other morsel,  and  then  stood  on  the  ledge  be- 
side the  eager  youngling,  "  dipping "  occasion- 


82  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

ally  himself,  and  showing  every  time  he  winked 
—  as  did  the  little  one,  also  —  snowy-white  eye- 
lids, in  strange  contrast  to  the  dark  slate-colored 
plumage. 

This  aesthetic  manner  of  discharging  family 
duties,  alternating  food  for  the  body  with  rap- 
ture of  the  soul,  continued  for  some  time,  proba- 
bly until  the  young  bird  had  as  much  as  was 
good  for  him ;  and  then  supplies  were  cut  off  by 
the  peremptory  disappearance  of  the  purveyor, 
who  plunged  with  the  brook  over  the  edge  of  a 
rock,  and  was  seen  no  more. 

A  little  later  a  grown  bird  appeared,  that  I 
supposed  at  first  was  the  returning  papa,  but 
a  few  moments'  observation  convinced  me  that 
it  was  the  mother ;  partly  because  no  song  ac- 
companied the  work,  but  more  because  of  the 
entirely  different  manners  of  the  new-comer. 
Filling  the  crop  of  that  importunate  offspring 
of  hers  was,  with  this  Quaker-dressed  dame,  a 
serious  business  that  left  no  time  for  rest  or  rec- 
reation. Two  charmed  hours  I  sat  absorbed, 
watching  the  most  wonderful  evolutions  one 
could  believe  possible  to  a  creature  in  feathers. 

At  the  point  where  this  little  drama  was  en- 
acted, the  brook  rushed  over  a  line  of  pebbles 
stretching  from  bank  to  bank,  lying  at  all  an- 
gles and  of  all  sizes,  from  six  to  ten  inches  in 
diameter.  Then  it  ran  five  or  six  feet  quietly, 


OUZEL  FEATS  UNDER  WATER.  83 

around  smooth  rocks  here  and  there  above  the 
water,  and  ended  by  plunging  over  a  mass  of 
bowlders  to  a  lower  level.  The  bird  began  by 
mounting  one  of  those  slippery  rounded  stones, 
and  thrusting  her  head  under  water  up  to  her 
shoulders.  Holding  it  there  a  few  seconds,  ap- 
parently looking  for  something,  she  then  jumped 
in  where  the  turmoil  was  maddest,  picked  an 
object  from  the  bottom,  and,  returning  to  the 
ledge,  gave  it  to  baby. 

The  next  moment,  before  I  had  recovered 
from  my  astonishment  at  this  feat  of  the  ouzel, 
she  ran  directly  up  the  falls  (which,  though  not 
high,  were  exceedingly  lively),  being  half  the 
time  entirely  under  water,  and  exactly  as  much 
at  her  ease  as  if  no  water  were  there ;  though 
how  she  could  stand  in  the  rapid  current,  not  to 
speak  of  walking  straight  up  against  it,  I  could 
not  understand. 

Often  she  threw  herself  into  the  stream,  and 
let  it  carry  her  down,  like  a  duck,  a  foot  or  two, 
while  she  looked  intently  on  the  bottom,  then 
simply  walked  up  out  of  it  on  to  a  stone.  I 
could  see  that  her  plumage  was  not  in  the  least 
wet ;  a  drop  or  two  often  rested  on  her  back 
when  she  came  out,  but  it  rolled  off  in  a  mo- 
ment. She  never  even  shook  herself.  The 
food  she  brought  to  that  eager  youngling  every 
few  minutes  looked  like  minute  worms,  doubt- 
less some  insect  Iarva3. 


84  IN  THE  EOCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

Several  times  this  hard  -  working  mother 
plunged  into  the  brook  where  it  was  shallow, 
ran  or  walked  down  it,  half  under  water,  and 
stopped  on  the  very  brink  of  the  lower  fall, 
where  one  would  think  she  could  not  even  stand, 
much  less  turn  back  and  run  up  stream,  which 
she  did  freely.  This  looked  to  me  almost  as 
difficult  as  for  a  man  to  stand  on  the  brink  of 
Niagara,  with  the  water  roaring  and  tumbling 
around  him.  Now  and  then  the  bird  ran  or 
flew  up,  against  the  current,  and  entirely  under 
water,  so  that  I  could  see  her  only  as  a  dark-col- 
ored moving  object,  and  then  came  out  all  fresh 
and  dry  beside  the  baby,  with  a  mouthful  of  food. 
I  should  hardly  dare  to  tell  this,  for  fear  of  rais- 
ing doubts  of  my  accuracy,  if  the  same  thing 
had  not  been  seen  and  reported  by  others  before 
me.  Her  crowning  action  was  to  stand  with 
one  foot  on  each  of  two  stones  in  the  middle 
and  most  uproarious  part  of  the  little  fall,  lean 
far  over,  and  deliberately  pick  something  from 
a  third  stone. 

All  this  was  no  show  performance,  even  no 
frolic,  on  the  part  of  the  ouzel,  —  it  was  simply 
her  every-day  manner  of  providing  for  the  needs 
of  that  infant ;  and  when  she  considered  the 
duty  discharged  for  the  time,  she  took  her  de- 
parture, very  probably  going  at  once  to  the  care 
of  a  second  youngster  who  awaited  her  coming 
in  some  other  niche  in  the  rocks. 


A  CLEVEE  LITTLE  ROGUE.  85 

Finding  himself  alone  again,  and  no  more 
dainties  coming  his  way,  the  young  dipper 
turned  for  entertainment  to  the  swift-running 
streamlet.  He  went  down  to  the  edge,  stepping 
easily,  never  hopping ;  but  when  the  shallow 
edge  of  the  water  ran  over  his  pretty  white  toes, 
he  hastily  scampered  back,  as  if  afraid  to  ven- 
ture farther.  The  clever  little  rogue  was  only 
coquetting,  however,  for  when  he  did  at  last 
plunge  in  he  showed  himself  very  much  at 
home.  He  easily  crossed  a  turbulent  bit  of  the 
brook,  and  when  he  was  carried  dowji  a  little  he 
scrambled  without  trouble  up  on  a  stone.  All 
the  time,  too,  he  was  peering  about  after  food ; 
and  in  fact  it  was  plain  that  his  begging  was  a 
mere  pretense,  —  he  was  perfectly  well  able  to 
look  out  for  himself.  Through  the  whole  of 
these  scenes  not  one  of  the  birds,  old  or  young, 
had  paid  the  slightest  attention  to  me,  though  I 
was  not  ten  feet  from  them. 

During  the  time  I  had  been  so  absorbed  in 
my  delightful  study  of  domestic  life  in  the  ouzel 
family,  the  other  interesting  resident  of  the 
canon  —  the  elusive  caiion  wren  —  had  been  for- 
gotten. Now,  as  I  noticed  that  the  day  was 
waning,  I  thought  of  him  again,  and,  tearing 
myself  away  from  the  enticing  picture,  leaving 
the  pretty  baby  to  his  own  amusements,  I  re- 
turned to  the  famous  Pillars,  and  planted  my- 


86  IiV  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

self  before  my  rock,  resolved  to  stay  there  till 
the  bird  appeared. 

No  note  came  to  encourage  me,  but,  gazing 
steadily  upward,  after  a  time  I  noticed  some- 
thing that  looked  like  a  fly  running  along  the 
wall.  Bringing  my  glass  to  my  eyes,  I  found 
that  it  was  a  bird,  and  one  of  the  white-throated 
family  I  so  longed  to  see.  She  —  for  her  si- 
lence and  her  ways  proclaimed  her  sex  —  was 
running  about  where  appeared  to  be  nothing 
but  perpendicular  rock,  flirting  her  tail  after  the 
manner  of  her  race,  as  happy  and  as  uncon- 
cerned as  if  several  thousand  feet  of  sheer  cliff 
did  not  stretch  between  her  and  the  brook  at  its 
foot.  Her  movements  were  jerky  and  wren-like, 
and  every  few  minutes  she  flitted  into  a  tiny 
crevice  that  seemed,  from  my  point  of  view, 
hardly  large  enough  to  admit  even  her  minute 
form.  She  was  dressed  like  the  sweet  singer  of 
yesterday,  and  the  door  she  entered  so  familiarly 
was  the  same  I  had  seen  him  interested  in.  I 
guessed  that  she  was  his  mate. 

The  bird  seemed  to  be  gathering  from  the 
rock  something  which  she  constantly  carried 
into  the  hole.  Possibly  there  were  nestlings  in 
that  snug  and  inaccessible  home.  To  discover 
if  my  conjectures  were  true,  I  redoubled  my 
vigilance,  though  it  was  neck-breaking  work, 
for  so  narrow  was  the  canon  at  that  point  that  I 


SHE  FLUNG  HERSELF  DOWN.  87 

could  not  get  far  enough  away  for  a  more  level 
view. 

Sometimes  the  bustling  little  wren  flew  to  the 
top  of  the  wall,  about  twenty  feet  above  her 
front  door,  as  it  looked  to  me  (it  may  have  been 
ten  times  that).  Over  the  edge  she  instantly 
disappeared,  but  in  a  few  minutes  returned  to 
her  occupation  on  the  rock.  Upon  the  earth 
beneath  her  sky  parlor  she  seemed  never  to  turn 
her  eyes,  and  I  began  to  fear  that  I  should  get 
no  nearer  view  of  the  shy  cliff-dweller. 

Finally,  however,  the  caprice  seized  the  tan- 
talizing creature  of  descending  to  the  level  of 
mortals,  and  the  brook.  Suddenly,  while  I 
looked,  she  flung  herself  off  her  perch,  and  fell 
—  down  —  down  —  down  —  disappearing  at  last 
behind  a  clump  of  weeds  at  the  bottom.  Was 
she  killed  ?  Had  she  been  shot  by  some  noiseless 
air-gun  ?  What  had  become  of  the  tiny  wren  ? 
I  sprang  to  my  feet,  and  hurried  as  near  as  the 
intervening  stream  would  allow,  when  lo  !  there 
she  was,  lively  and  fussy  as  ever,  running  about 
at  the  foot  of  the  cliff,  searching,  searching  all 
the  time,  ever  and  anon  jumping  up  and  pulling 
from  the  rock  something  that  clung  to  it. 

When  the  industrious  bird  had  filled  her  beak 
with  material  that  stuck  out  on  both  sides,  which 
I  concluded  to  be  some  kind  of  rock  moss,  she 
started  back.  Not  up  the  face  of  that  blank 


88  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

wall,  loaded  as  she  was,  but  by  a  strange  path 
that  she  knew  well,  up  which  I  watched  her 
wending  her  way  to  her  proper  level.  This  was 
a  cleft  between  two  solid  bodies  of  rock,  where, 
it  would  seem,  the  two  walls,  in  settling  to- 
gether for  their  lifelong  union,  had  broken  and 
crumbled,  and  formed  between  them  a  sort  of 
crack,  filled  with  unattached  bowlders,  with 
crevices  and  passages,  sometimes  perpendicular, 
sometimes  horizontal.  Around  and  through 
these  was  a  zigzag  road  to  the  top,  evidently  as 
familiar  to  that  atom  of  a  bird  as  Broadway  is 
to  some  of  her  fellow-creatures,  and  more  easily 
traversed,  for  she  had  it  all  to  herself. 

The  wren  flew  about  three  feet  to  the  first  step 
of  her  upward  passage,  then  ran  and  clambered 
nearly  all  the  rest  of  the  way,  darting  behind  jut- 
ting rocks  and  coming  out  the  other  side,  occa- 
sionally flying  a  foot  or  two  ;  now  pausing  as  if 
for  an  observation,  jerking  her  tail  upright  and 
letting  it  drop  back,  wren-fashion,  then  starting 
afresh,  and  so  going  on  till  she  reached  the  level 
of  her  nest,  when  she  flew  across  the  (apparent) 
forty  or  fifty  feet,  directly  into  the  crevice.  In 
a  minute  she  came  out,  and  without  an  instant's 
pause  flung  herself  down  again. 

I  watched  this  curious  process  very  closely. 
The  wren  seemed  to  close  her  wings  ;  certainly 
she  did  not  use  them,  nor  were  they  in  the  least 


AN  INQUISITIVE  BURRO.  89 

spread  that  I  could  detect.  She  caine  to  the 
ground  as  if  she  were  a  stone,  as  quickly  and  as 
directly  as  a  stone  would  have  fallen ;  but  just 
before  touching  the  ground  she  spread  her  wings, 
and  alighted  lightly  on  her  feet.  Then  she  fell  to 
her  labor  of  collecting  what  I  suppose  was  nest- 
ing material,  and  in  a  few  minutes  started  up 
again  by  the  roundabout  road  to  the  top.  Two 
hours  or  more,  with  gradually  stiffening  neck, 
I  spent  with  the  wren,  while  she  worked  con- 
stantly and  silently,  and  not  once  during  all 
that  time  did  the  singer  appear. 

What  the  scattering  parties  of  tourists,  who 
from  time  to  time  passed  me,  thought  of  a  silent 
personage  sitting  in  the  canon  alone,  staring  in- 
tently up  at  a  blank  wall  of  rock,  I  did  not 
inquire.  Perhaps  that  she'  was  a  verse-writer 
seeking  inspiration ;  more  likely,  however,  a 
harmless  lunatic  musing  over  her  own  fancies. 

I  know  well  what  I  thought  of  them,  from  the 
glimpses  that  came  to  me  as  I  sat  there  ;  some 
climbing  over  the  sharp-edged  rocks,  in  tight 
boots,  delicate  kid  gloves,  and  immaculate  trav- 
eling costumes,  and  panting  for  breath  in  the 
seven  thousand  feet  altitude ;  others  uncomfort- 
ably seated  on  the  backs  of  the  scraggy  little 
burros,  one  of  whom  was  so  interested  in  my 
proceedings  that  he  walked  directly  up  and 
thrust  his  long,  inquiring  ears  into  my  very  face, 


90  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

spite  of  the  resistance  of  his  rider,  forcing  me 
to  rise  and  decline  closer  acquaintance.  One  of 
the  melancholy  procession  was  loaded  with  a 
heavy  camera,  another  equipped  with  a  butterfly 
net ;  this  one  bent  under  the  weight  of  a  big 
basket  of  luncheon,  and  that  one  was  burdened 
with  satchels  and  wraps  and  umbrellas.  All 
were  laboriously  trying  to  enjoy  themselves,  but 
not  one  lingered  to  look  at  the  wonder  and  the 
beauty  of  the  surroundings.  I  pitied  them,  one 
and  all,  feeling  obliged,  as  no  doubt  they  did,  to 
"  see  the  sights  ;  "  tramping  the  lovely  canon 
to-day,  glancing  neither  to  right  nor  left ;  whirl- 
ing through  the  Garden  of  the  Gods  to-morrow ; 
painfully  climbing  the  next  day  the  burro  track 
to  the  Grave,  the  sacred  point  where 

' '  Upon  the  wind-blown  mountain  spot 
Chosen  and  loved  as  best  by  her, 
Watched  over  by  near  sun  and  star, 
Encompassed  by  wide  skies,  she  sleeps." 

Alas  that  one  cannot  quote  with  truth  the  re- 
maining lines ! 

"  And  not  one  jarring  murmur  creeps 
Up  from  the  plain  her  rest  to  mar." 

For  now,  at  the  end  of  the  toilsome  passage, 
that  place  which  should  be  sacred  to  loving 
memories  and  tender  thoughts,  is  desecrated  by 
placards  and  picnickers,  defaced  by  advertise- 
ments, strewn  with  the  wrapping-paper,  tin  cans, 


THE  BETTER  WAY.  91 

and  bottles  with  which  the  modern  globe-trotter 
marks  his  path  through  the  beautiful  and  sacred 
scenes  in  nature,1 

In  this  uncomfortable  way  the  majority  of 
summer  tourists  spend  day  after  day,  and  week 
after  week ;  going  home  tired  out,  with  no  new 
idea  gained,  but  happy  to  be  able  to  say  they 
have  been  here  and  there,  beheld  this  canon, 
dined  on  that  mountain,  drank  champagne  in 
such  a  pass,  and  struggled  for  breath  on  top  of 
"  the  Peak."  Their  eyes  may  indeed  have 
passed  over  these  scenes,  but  they  have  not  seen 
one  thing. 

Far  wiser  is  he  (and  more  especially  she)  who 
seeks  out  a  corner  obscure  enough  to  escape  the 
eyes  of  the  "  procession,"  settles  himself  in  it, 
and  spends  fruitful  and  delightful  days  alone 
with  nature  ;  never  hasting  nor  rushing  ;  seeing 
and  studying  the  wonders  at  hand,  but  avoid- 
ing "  parties  "  and  "  excursions  ;  "  valuing  more 
a  thorough  knowledge  of  one  canon  than  a 
glimpse  of  fifty ;  caring  more  to  appreciate  the 
beauties  of  one  mountain  than  to  scramble  over 
a  whole  range ;  getting  into  such  perfect  har- 
mony with  nature  that  it  is  as  if  he  had  come 
into  possession  of  a  new  life  ;  and  from  such  an 

1  Since  the  above  was  written,  I  am  glad  to  learn  that,  be- 
cause of  this  vandalism,  the  remains  of  ' '  H.  H."  have  been 
removed  to  the  cemetery  at  Colorado  Springs. 


92  IN  THE  ROCKY  MOUNTAINS. 

experience  returning  to  his  home  refreshed  and 
invigorated  in  mind  and  body. 

Such  were  my  reflections  as  the  sun  went 
down,  and  I  felt,  as  I  passed  out  through  the 
gate,  that  I  ought  to  double  my  entrance  fee, 
so  much  had  my  life  been  enriched  by  that  per- 
fect day  alone  in  Cheyenne  Canon. 


IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 


For  all  the  woods  are  shrill  with  stress  of  song-, 
Where  soft  wings  flutter  down  to  new-built  nests, 

And  turbulent  sweet  sounds  are  heard  day  long, 
Aa  of  innumerable  marriage  feasts. 

CHAKLES  LOTIN  HILDRETH. 


VIII. 
AT  FOUR  O'CLOCK  IN  THE  MORNING. 

FOUR  o'clock  in  the  morning  is  the  magical 
hour  of  the  day.  I  do  not  offer  this  sentiment 
as  original,  nor  have  I  the  slightest  hope  of  con- 
verting any  one  to  my  opinion  ;  I  merely  state 
the  fact. 

For  years  I  had  known  it  perfectly  well ; 
and  fortified  by  my  knowledge,  and  bristling 
with  good  resolutions,  I  went  out  every  June 
determined  to  rise  at  that  unnatural  hour.  No- 
thing is  easier  than  to  get  up  at  four  o'clock  — 
the  night  before ;  but  when  morning  comes,  the 
point  of  view  is  changed,  and  all  the  arguments 
that  arise  in  the  mind  are  on  the  other  side ; 
sleep  is  the  one  thing  desirable.  The  case  ap- 
peared hopeless.  Appeals  from  Philip  drunk 
(with  sleep)  to  Philip  sober  did  not  seem  to 
avail ;  for  whatever  the  latter  decreed,  the  for- 
mer would  surely  disobey. 

But  last  June  I  found  my  spur ;  last  summer 
I  learned  to  get  up  with  eagerness,  and  stay  up 
with  delight.  This  was  effected  by  means  of 
an  alarm,  set  by  the  evening's  wakefulness,  that 


96  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

had  no  mercy  on  the  morning's  sleepiness.  The 
secret  is  —  a  present  interest.  What  may  be 
going  on  somewhere  out  of  sight  and  hearing 
in  the  world  is  a  matter  of  perfect  indifference ; 
what  is  heard  and  seen  at  the  moment  is  an  ar- 
gument that  no  one  can  resist. 

I  got  my  hint  by  the  accident  of  some  shelled 
corn  being  left  on  the  ground  before  my  win- 
dow, and  so  attracting  a  four  o'clock  party, 
consisting  of  blackbirds,  blue  jays,  and  doves. 
I  noticed  the  corn,  but  did  not  think  of  the 
pleasure  it  would  give  me,  until  the  next  morn- 
ing, when  I  was  awakened  about  four  o'clock  by 
loud  and  excited  talk  in  blackbird  tones,  and 
hurried  to  the  window,  to  find  that  I  had  half 
the  birds  of  the  neighborhood  before  me. 

Most  in  number,  and  most  noisy,  were  the 
common  blackbirds,  who  just  at  that  time  were 
feeding  their  young  in  a  grove  of  evergreens 
back  of  the  house,  where  they  had  set  up  their 
nurseries  in  a  crowd,  as  is  their  custom.  It  is 
impossible  to  take  this  bird  seriously,  he  is  so 
irresistibly  ludicrous.  His  manners  always  sug- 
gest to  me  the  peculiar  drollery  of  the  negro ; 
one  of  the  old-fashioned  sort,  as  we  read  of  him, 
and  I  promised  myself  some  amusement  from 
the  study  of  him  at  short  range ;  I  was  not  dis- 
appointed. 

My  greeting  as  I  took  my  seat  at  the  open 


"SQUEE-GEE!"  97 

window,  unfortunately  without  blinds  to  screen 
me,  was  most  comical.  A  big  pompous  fellow 
turned  his  wicked-looking  white  eye  upon  me, 
drew  himself  into  a  queer  humped-up  position, 
with  all  his  feathers  on  end,  and  apparently 
by  a  strong  effort  squeezed  out  a  husky  and 
squeaky,  yet  loud  cry  of  two  notes,  which 
sounded  exactly  like  "  Squee-gee !  " 

I  was  so  astounded  that  I  laughed  in  his  face ; 
at  which  he  repeated  it  with  added  emphasis, 
then  turned  his  back  on  me,  as  unworthy  of 
notice  away  up  in  my  window,  and  gave  his 
undivided  attention  to  a  specially  large  grain 
of  corn  which  had  been  unearthed  by  a  meek- 
looking  neighbor,  and  appropriated  by  him,  in 
the  most  lordly  manner.  His  bearing  at  the 
moment  was  superb  and  stately  in  a  degree  of 
which  only  a  bird  who  walks  is  capable ;  one 
cannot  be  dignified  who  is  obliged  to  hop. 

I  thought  his  greeting  was  a  personal  one  to 
show  contempt  —  which  it  did  emphatically  — 
to  the  human  race  in  general,  and  to  me  in 
particular,  but  I  found  later  that  it  was  the 
ordinary  blackbird  way  of  being  offensive ;  it 
was  equivalent  to  "Get  out!"  or  "Shut  up!" 
or  some  other  of  the  curt  and  rude  expressions 
in  use  by  bigger  folk  than  blackbirds. 

If  a  bird  alighted  too  near  one  of  these  arro- 
gant fellows  on  the  ground,  he  was  met  with  the 


98  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

same  expletive,  and  if  he  was  about  the  same 
size  he  "  talked  back."  The  number  and  vari- 
ety of  utterances  at  their  command  was  aston- 
ishing ;  I  was  always  being  surprised  with  a  new 
one.  Now  a  blackbird  would  fly  across  the 
lawn,  making  a  noise  exactly  like  a  boy's  tin 
trumpet,  and  repeating  it  as  long  as  he  was 
within  hearing,  regarding  it,  seemingly,  as  an 
exceptionally  great  feat.  Again  one  would  seize 
a  kernel  of  corn,  burst  out  with  a  convulsive 
cry,  as  if  he  were  choking  to  death,  and  fly  off 
with  his  prize,  in  imminent  danger  of  his  life, 
as  I  could  not  but  feel. 

The  second  morning  a  youngster  came  with 
his  papa  to  the  feast,  and  he  was  droller,  if 
possible,  than  his  elders.  He  followed  his  par- 
ent around,  with  head  lowered  and  mouth  wide 
open,  fairly  bawling  in  a  loud  yet  husky  tone. 

The  young  blackbird  does  not  appear  in  the 
glossy  suit  of  his  parents.  His  coat  is  rusty  in 
hue,  and  his  eye  is  dark,  as  is  proper  in  youth. 
He  is  not  at  all  backward  in  speaking  his  mind, 
and  his  sole  desire  at  this  period  of  his  life 
being  food,  he  demands  it  with  an  energy  and 
persistence  that  usually  insures  success. 

In  making  close  acquaintance  with  them,  one 
cannot  help  longing  to  prescribe  to  the  whole 
blackbird  family  something  to  clear  their  bron- 
chial tubes;  every  tone  is  husky,  and  the  stu- 


A  BLACKBIRD  RUSE.  99 

dent  involuntarily  clears  his  own  throat  as  he 
listens. 

I  was  surprised  to  find  the  blackbirds  so 
beautiful.  When  the  sun  was  near  setting,  and 
struck  across  the  grass  its  level  rays,  they  were 
really  exquisite  ;  their  heads  a  brilliant  metallic 
blue,  and  all  back  of  that  rich  bronze  or  purple, 
all  over  as  glossy  as  satin.  The  little  dames 
are  somewhat  smaller,  and  a  shade  less  finely 
dressed  than  their  bumptious  mates ;  but  that 
does  not  make  them  meek  —  far  from  it !  and 
they  are  not  behind  their  partners  in  eccentric 
freaks.  Sometimes  one  would  apparently  at- 
tempt a  joke  by  starting  to  fly,  and  passing  so 
near  the  head  of  one  of  the  dignitaries  on  the 
ground  that  he  would  involuntarily  start  and 
"  duck  "  ingloriously.  On  one  occasion  a  pair 
were  working  peaceably  together  at  the  corn, 
when  she  flirted  a  bit  of  dirt  so  that  it  flew 
toward  him.  He  dashed  furiously  at  her.  She 
gave  one  hop  which  took  her  about  a  foot  away, 
and  then  it  appeared  that  she  coveted  a  kernel 
of  corn  that  was  near  him  when  the  offense  was 
given,  for  she  instantly  jumped  back  and  pounced 
upon  it  as  if  she  expected  to  be  annihilated.  He 
ran  after  her  and  drove  her  off,  but  she  kept  her 
prize. 

Eating  one  of  those  hard  grains  was  no  joke 
to  anybody  without  teeth,  and  it  was  a  serious 


100  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

affair  to  one  of  the  blackbirds.  He  took  it  into 
his  beak,  dropped  both  head  and  tail,  and  gave 
his  mind  to  the  cracking  of  the  sweet  morsel. 
At  this  time  he  particularly  disliked  to  be  dis- 
turbed, and  the  only  time  I  saw  one  rude  to  a 
youngster  was  when  struggling  with  this  diffi- 
culty. While  feeding  the  nestlings,  they  broke 
the  kernels  into  bits,  picked  up  all  the  pieces, 
filling  the  beak  the  whole  length,  and  then  flew 
off  with  them. 

But  they  were  not  always  allowed  to  keep  the 
whole  kernel.  They  were  generally  attended 
while  on  the  ground  by  a  little  party  of  thieves, 
ready  and  waiting  to  snatch  any  morsel  that 
was  dropped.  These  were,  of  course,  the  Eng- 
lish sparrows.  They  could  not  break  corn,  but 
they  liked  it  for  all  that,  so  they  used  their  wits 
to  secure  it,  and  of  sharpness  these  street  birds 
have  no  lack.  The  moment  a  blackbird  alighted 
on  the  grass,  a  sparrow  or  two  came  down  beside 
him,  and  lingered  around,  watching  eagerly. 
Whenever  a  crumb  dropped,  one  rushed  in  and 
snatched  it,  and  instantly  flew  from  the  wrath 
to  come. 

The  sparrows  had  not  been  at  this  long  be- 
fore some  of  the  wise  blackbirds  saw  through 
it,  and  resented  it  with  proper  spirit.  One 
of  them  would  turn  savagely  after  the  spar- 
row who  followed  him,  and  the  knowing  rascal 


NO  REPOSE  OF  MANNER.  101 

always  took  his  departure.  It  was  amusing  to 
see  a  blackbird  working  seriously  on  a  grain, 
all  his  faculties  absorbed  in  the  solemn  question 
whether  he  should  succeed  in  cracking  his  nut, 
while  two  or  three  feathered  pilferers  stood  as 
near  as  they  dared,  anxiously  waiting  till  the 
great  work  should  be  accomplished,  the  hard 
shell  should  yield,  and  some  bits  should  fall. 

About  five  days  after  the  feast  was  spread, 
the  young  came  out  in  force,  often  two  of  them 
following  one  adult  about  on  the  grass,  running 
after  him  so  closely  that  he  could  hardly  get  a 
chance  to  break  up  the  kernel;  indeed,  he  often 
had  to  fly  to  a  tree  to  prepare  the  mouthfuls  for 
them.  The  young  blackbird  has  not  the  slight- 
est repose  of  manner ;  nor,  for  that  matter,  has 
the  old  one  either.  The  grown-ups  treated  the 
young  well,  almost  always  ;  they  never  "  squee- 
gee'd  "  at  them,  never  touched  them  in  any  way, 
notwithstanding  they  were  so  insistent  in  beg- 
ging that  they  would  chase  an  adult  bird  across 
the  grass,  calling  madly  all  the  time,  and  fairly 
force  him  to  fly  away  to  get  rid  of  them. 

Once  two  young  ones  got  possession  of  the 
only  spot  where  corn  was  left,  and  so  tormented 
their  elders  who  came  that  they  had  to  dash  in 
and  snatch  a  kernel  when  they  wanted  one. 
One  of  the  old  ones  danced  around  these  two 
babies  in  a  little  circle  a  foot  in  diameter,  the 


102  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTEY. 

infants  turning  as  he  moved,  and  ever  present- 
ing open  beaks  to  him.  It  was  one  of  the 
funniest  exhibitions  I  ever  saw.  After  going 
around  half  a  dozen  times,  the  baffled  blackbird 
flew  away  without  a  taste. 

When  the  two  had  driven  every  one  else  off 
the  ground  by  their  importunities,  one  of  them 
plucked  up  spirit  to  try  managing  the  corn  for 
himself.  Like  a  little  man  he  stopped  bawling, 
and  began  exercising  his  strength  on  the  sweet 
grain.  Upon  this  his  neighbor,  instead  of  fol- 
lowing his  example,  began  to  beg  of  him !  flut- 
tering his  wings,  putting  up  his  beak,  and  almost 
pulling  the  corn  out  of  the  mouth  of  the  poor 
little  fellow  struggling  with  his  first  kernel ! 

Sometimes  a  young  one  drove  his  parent  all 
over  a  tree  with  his  supplications.  Higher  and 
higher  would  go  the  persecuted,  with  his  tor- 
mentor scrambling,  and  half  flying  after,  till 
the  elder  absolutely  flew  away,  much  put  out. 

Long  before  this  time  the  corn  had  been  used 
up.  But  I  could  not  bear  to  lose  my  morning 
entertainment,  for  all  these  things  took  place 
between  four  and  six  A.  M.  —  so  I  made  a  trip 
to  the  village,  and  bought  a  bag  of  the  much  de- 
sired dainty,  some  handf uls  of  which  I  scattered 
every  night  after  birds  were  abed,  ready  for  the 
sunrise  show.  Blackbirds  were  not  the  only 
guests  at  the  feast;  there  were  the  doves, — 


THE  DOLL  A  BOGY.  103 

mourning,  or  wood-doves,  —  who  dropped  to  the 
grass,  serene  as  a  summer  morning,  walking 
around  in  their  small  red  boots,  with  mincing 
steps  and  fussy  little  bows.  Blue  jays,  too, 
came  in  plenty,  selected  each  his  grain  and  flew 
away  with  it.  Robins,  seeing  all  the  excitement, 
came  over  from  their  regular  hunting-ground, 
but  never  finding  anything  so  attractive  as 
worms,  they  soon  left. 

The  corn  feast  wound  up  with  a  droll  excite- 
ment. One  day  a  child  from  the  house  took  her 
doll  out  in  the  grass  to  play,  set  it  up  against 
a  tree  trunk,  and  left  it  there.  It  had  long 
light  hair  which  stood  out  around  the  head,  and 
it  did  look  rather  uncanny,  but  it  was  amusing 
to  see  the  consternation  it  caused.  Blue  jays 
came  to  trees  near  by,  and  talked  in  low  tones 
to  each  other ;  then  one  after  another  swooped 
down  toward  it ;  then  they  all  squawked  at  it, 
and  finding  this  of  no  avail,  they  left  in  a  body. 

The  robins  approached  cautiously,  two  of 
them,  calling  constantly,  "he  !  he!  he!  "  One 
was  determined  not  to  be  afraid,  and  came 
nearer  and  nearer,  till  within  about  a  foot  of  the 
strange  object  and  behind  it,  when  suddenly  he 
started  as  though  shot,  jumped  back,  and  both 
flew  in  a  panic. 

Soon  after  this  a  red-headed  woodpecker 
alighted  on  the  trunk  of  the  elm,  preparatory 


104  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

to  helping  himself  to  a  grain  of  corn.  The 
moment  his  eyes  fell  upon  madam  of  the  fluffy 
hair,  he  burst  out  with  a  loud,  rapid  woodpecker 
"  chitter,"  gradually  growing  higher  in  key  and 
louder  in  tone.  The  blue  jay  flew  down  from 
the  nest  across  the  yard,  and  another  came  from 
behind  the  house  ;  both  perched  near  and  stared 
at  him,  and  then  began  to  talk  in  low  tones.  A 
robin  came  hastily  over  and  gazed  at  the  usually 
silent  red-head,  and  apparently  it  was  to  all  as 
strange  a  performance  as  it  was  to  me,  or  possi- 
bly they  recognized  that  it  was  a  cry  of  warning 
against  danger. 

After  he  had  us  all  aroused,  the  bird  suddenly 
fell  to  silence,  and  resumed  his  ordinary  man- 
ner, but  he  did  not  go  after  corn.  I  suppose 
the  harangue  was  addressed  to  the  doll. 

That  was  the  last  scene  in  the  first  act  of  the 
corn  feast,  for  the  blackbirds  had  become  so 
numerous  and  so  noisy  that  they  made  morning 
hideous  to  the  whole  household,  and  I  stopped 
the  supplies  for  several  days,  till  these  birds 
ceased  to  expect  anything,  and  so  came  no  more, 
and  then  I  spread  a  fresh  breakfast-table  for 
more  interesting  guests,  whose  manners  and  cus- 
toms I  studied  for  weeks. 

I  was  invariably  startled  wide  awake  on  these 
mornings  by  a  bird  note,  and  sprang  up,  to  see 
at  one  glance  that 


LOVELY  MORNING.  105 

"  Day  had  awakened  all  things  that  be, 
The  lark  and  the  thrush,  and  the  swallow  free," 

and  that  my  party  was  already  assembled  ;  one 
or  two  cardinals  —  or  redbirds,  as  they  are 
often  called — on  the  -grass,  with  the  usual  at- 
tendance of  English  sparrows,  and  the  red- 
headed woodpecker  in  the  elm,  surveying  the 
lawn,  and  considering  which  of  the  trespassers 
he  should  fall  upon.  It  was  the  work  of  one 
minute  to  get  into  my  wraps  and  seat  myself, 
with  opera  glass,  at  the  wide-open  window. 

My  first  discovery  made,  however,  during  the 
blackbird  reign,  was  that  four  o'clock  is  the 
most  lovely  part  of  the  day.  All  the  dust  of  hu- 
man affairs  having  settled  during  the  hours  of 
sleep,  the  air  is  fresh  and  sweet,  as  if  just  made ; 
and  generally,  just  before  sunrise,  the  foliage  is 
at  perfect  rest,  —  the  repose  of  night  still  linger- 
ing, the  world  of  nature  as  well  as  of  men  still 
sleeping. 

The  first  thing  one  naturally  looks  for,  as 
birds  begin  to  waken,  is  a  morning  chorus  of 
song.  True  bird-lovers,  indeed,  long  for  it  with 
a  longing  that  cannot  be  told.  But  alas,  every 
year  the  chorus  is  withdrawing  more  and  more 
to  the  woods,  every  year  it  is  harder  to  find  a 
place  where  English  sparrows  are  not  in  posses- 
sion ;  and  it  is  one  of  the  most  grievous  sins  of 
that  bird  that  he  spoils  the  song,  even  when  he 


106  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

does  not  succeed  in  driving  out  the  singer.  A 
running  accompaniment  of  harsh  and  intermina- 
ble squawks  overpowers  the  music  of  meadow- 
lark  and  robin,  and  the  glorious  song  of  the 
thrush  is  fairly  murdered  by  it.  One  could  al- 
most forgive  the  sparrow  his  other  crimes,  if  he 
would  only  lie  abed  in  the  morning  ;  if  he  would 
occasionally  listen,  and  not  forever  break  the 
peace  of  the  opening  day  with  his  vulgar  brawl- 
ing. But  the  subject  of  English  sparrows  is 
maddening  to  a  lover  of  native  birds  ;  let  us  not 
defile  the  magic  hour  by  considering  it. 

The  most  obvious  resident  of  the  neighbor- 
hood, at  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  was  al- 
ways the  golden-winged  woodpecker,  or  flicker. 
Though  he  scorned  the  breakfast  I  offered,  hav- 
ing no  vegetarian  proclivities,  he  did  not  refuse 
me  his  presence.  I  found  him  a  character,  and 
an  amusing  study,  and  I  never  saw  his  tribe  so 
numerous  and  so  much  at  home. 

Though  largest  in  size  of  my  four  o'clock 
birds,  and  most  fully  represented  (always  ex- 
cepting the  English  sparrows),  the  golden-wing 
was  not  in  command.  The  autocrat  of  the  hour, 
the  reigning  power,  was  quite  a  different  per- 
sonage, although  belonging  to  the  woodpecker 
family.  It  was  a  red-headed  woodpecker  who 
assumed  to  own  the  lawn  and  be  master  of  the 
feast.  This  individual  was  marked  by  a  defect 


OUT  OF  PLACE  ON  THE  GEOUND.       107 

in  plumage,  and  had  been  a  regular  caller  since 
the  morning  of  my  arrival.  During  the  black- 
bird supremacy  over  the  corn  supply  he  had 
been  hardly  more  than  a  spectator,  coming  to 
the  trunk  of  the  elm  and  surveying  the  assem- 
bly of  blue  jays,  doves,  blackbirds,  and  spar- 
rows with  interest,  as  one  looks  down  upon  a 
herd  with  whom  he  has  nothing  in  common. 
But  when  those  birds  departed,  and  the  visitors 
were  of  a  different  character,  mostly  cardinals, 
with  an  occasional  blue  jay,  he  at  once  took  the 
place  he  felt  belonged  to  him  —  that  of  dictator. 
The  Virginia  cardinal,  a  genuine  F.  F.  V., 
and  a  regular  attendant  at  my  corn  breakfast, 
was  a  subject  of  special  study  with  me ;  indeed, 
it  was  largely  on  his  account  that  I  had  set  up 
my  tent  in  that  part  of  the  world.  I  had  all 
my  life  known  him  as  a  tenant  of  cages,  and  it 
struck  me  at  first  as  very  odd  to  see  him  flying 
about  freely,  like  other  wild  birds.  No  one, 
it  seemed  to  me,  ever  looked  so  out  of  place 
as  this  fellow  of  elegant  manners,  aristocratic 
crest,  and  brilliant  dress,  hopping  about  on  the 
ground  with  his  exaggerated  little  hops,  tail 
held  stiffly  up  out  of  harm's  way,  and  uttering 
sharp  "  tsips."  One  could  not  help  the  feeling 
that  he  was  altogether  too  fine  for  this  common 
work-a-day  existence ;  that  he  was  intended  for 
show;  and  that  a  gilded  cage  was  his  proper 


108  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

abiding-place,  with  a  retinue  of  human  servants 
to  minister  to  his  comfort.  Yet  he  was  modest 
and  unassuming,  and  appeared  really  to  enjoy 
his  life  of  hard  work ;  varying  his  struggles  with 
a  kernel  of  hard  corn  on  the  ground,  where  his 
color  shone  out  like  a  flower  against  the  green, 
with  a  rest  on  a  spruce-tree,  where 

"  Like  a  living  jewel  he  sits  and  sings  ;  " 

and  when  he  had  finished  his  frugal  meal,  de- 
parting, if  nothing  hurried  him,  with  a  graceful, 
loitering  flight,  in  which  each  wing-beat  seemed 
to  carry  him  but  a  few  inches  forward,  and 
leave  his  body  poised  an  infinitesimal  second 
for  another  beat.  With  much  noise  of  flutter- 
ing wings  he  would  start  for  some  point,  but 
appear  not  to  care  much  whether  he  got  there. 
He  was  never  in  haste  unless  there  was  some- 
thing to  hurry  him,  in  which  he  differed  greatly 
from  some  of  the  fidgety,  restless  personages  I 
have  known  among  the  feathered  folk. 

The  woodpecker's  way  of  making  himself  dis- 
agreeable to  this  distinguished  guest,  was  to 
keep  watch  from  his  tree  (an  elm  overlooking 
the  supply  of  corn)  till  he  came  to  eat,  and  then 
fly  down,  aiming  for  exactly  the  spot  occupied 
by  the  bird  on  the  ground.  No  one,  however 
brave,  could  help  "getting  out  from  under," 
when  he  saw  this  tricolored  whirlwind  descend- 
ing upon  him.  The  cardinal  always  jumped 


A   LITTLE  SET-TO.  109 

aside,  then  drew  himself  up,  crest  erect,  tail  held 
at  an  angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  and  faced  the 
woodpecker,  calm,  but  prepared  to  stand  up  for 
his  right  to  life,  liberty,  and  the  pursuit  of  his 
breakfast.  Sometimes  they  had  a  little  set-to, 
with  beaks  not  more  than  three  inches  apart, 
the  woodpecker  making1  feints  of  rushing  upon 
his  vis-a-vis,  and  the  cardinal  jumping  up  ready 
to  clinch,  if  a  fight  became  necessary.  It  never 
went  quite  so  far  as  that,  though  they  glared 
at  each  other,  and  the  cardinal  uttered  a  little 
whispered  "  ha !  "  every  time  he  sprang  up. 

The  Virginian's  deliberate  manner  of  eating 
made  peace  important  to  him.  He  took  a  grain 
of  hard  corn  in  his  mouth,  lengthwise ;  then 
working  his  sharp-edged  beak,  he  soon  suc- 
ceeded in  cutting  the  shell  of  the  kernel  through 
its  whole  length.  From  this  he  went  on  turn- 
ing it  with  his  tongue,  and  still  cutting  with  his 
beak,  till  the  whole  shell  rolled  out  of  the  side 
of  his  mouth  in  one  long  piece,  completely 
cleared  from  its  savory  contents. 

The  red-head,  on  the  contrary,  took  his  grain 
of  corn  to  a  branch,  or  sometimes  to  the  trunk 
of  a  tree,  where  he  sought  a  suitable  crevice  in 
the  bark  or  in  a  crotch,  placed  his  kernel,  ham- 
mered it  well  in  till  firm  and  safe,  and  then 
proceeded  to  pick  off  pieces  and  eat  them  dain- 
tily, one  by  one.  Sometimes  he  left  a  kernel 


110  IZV  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

there,  and  I  saw  how  firmly  it  was  wedged  in, 
when  the  English  sparrow  discovered  his  store, 
fell  upon  it,  and  dug  it  out.  It  was  a  good  deal 
of  work  for  a  strong-billed,  persistent  sparrow 
to  dislodge  a  grain  thus  placed.  But  of  course 
he  never  gave  up  till  he  could  carry  it  off, 
probably  because  he  saw  that  some  one  valued 
it ;  for  since  he  was  unable  to  crack  a  grain  that 
was  whole,  it  must  have  been  useless  to  him. 
Sometimes  the  woodpecker  wedged  the  kernel 
into  a  crevice  in  the  bark  of  the  trunk,  then 
broke  it  up,  and  packed  the  pieces  away  in  other 
niches ;  and  I  have  seen  an  English  sparrow  go 
carefully  over  the  trunk,  picking  out  and  eat- 
ing these  tidbits.  That,  or  something  else,  has 
taught  sparrows  to  climb  tree  trunks,  which 
they  do,  in  the  neighborhood  I  speak  of,  with 
as  much  ease  as  a  woodpecker.  I  have  repeat- 
edly seen  them  go  the  whole  length  of  a  tall 
elm  trunk;  proceeding  by  little  hops,  aide.d  by 
the  wings,  and  using  the  tail  for  support  almost 
as  handily  as  a  woodpecker  himself. 

The  red-head's  assumption  of  being  monarch 
of  all  he  surveyed  did  not  end  with  the  break- 
fast-table ;  he  seemed  to  consider  himself  guard- 
ian and  protector  of  the  whole  place.  One  even- 
ing I  was  drawn  far  down  on  the  lawn  by  a 
peculiar  cry  of  his.  It  began  with  a  singular 
performance  which  I  have  already  described, 


A  CURIOUS  PARTY.  Ill 

a  loud,  rapid  "  chit-it-it-it-it,"  increasing  in  vol- 
ume and  rising  in  pitch,  as  though  he  were 
working  himself  up  to  some  deed  of  despera- 
tion. In  a  few  minutes,  however,  he  appeared 
to  get  his  feelings  under  control,  and  dropped  to 
a  single-note  cry,  often  repeated.  It  differed 
widely  from  his  loud  call,  "  wok !  wok !  wok !  " 
still  more  from  the  husky  tones  of  his  conver- 
sation with  others  of  his  kind ;  neither  was  it 
like  the  war-cries  with  which  he  intimated  to 
another  bird  that  he  was  not  invited  to  break- 
fast. I  thought  there  must  be  trouble  brew- 
ing, especially  as  mingled  with  it  was  an  occa- 
sional excited  "  pe-auk  !  "  of  a  flicker.  When  I 
reached  the  spot,  I  found  a  curious  party,  con- 
sisting of  two  doves  and  three  flickers,  assembled 
on  one  small  tree,  with  the  woodpecker  on  an 
upper  branch,  as  though  addressing  his  remarks 
to  them. 

As  I  drew  near  the  scene  of  the  excitement, 
the  doves  flew,  and  then  the  golden-wings ;  but 
the  red-head  held  his  ground,  though  he  stopped 
his  cries  when  he  saw  help  coming.  In  vain  I 
looked  about  for  the  cause  of  the  row ;  every- 
thing was  serene.  It  was  a  beautiful  quiet  even- 
ing, and  not  a  child,  nor  a  dog,  nor  anything  in 
sight  to  make  trouble.  The  tree  stood  quite 
by  itself,  in  the  midst  of  grass  that  knew  not 
the  clatter  of  the  lawn-mower. 


112  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

I  stood  still  and  waited ;  and  I  had  my  re- 
ward, for  after  a  few  minutes'  silence  I  saw  a 
pair  of  ears,  and  then  a  head,  cautiously  lifted 
above  the  grass,  about  fifteen  feet  from  the  tree. 
The  mystery  was  solved ;  it  was  a  cat,  whom 
all  birds  know  as  a  creature  who  will  bear 
watching  when  prowling  around  the  haunts  of 
bird  families.  I  am  fond  of  pussy,  but  I  depre- 
cate her  taste  for  game,  as  I  do  that  of  some 
other  hunters,  wiser  if  not  better  than  she.  I 
invited  her  to  leave  this  place,  where  she  plainly 
was  unwelcome,  by  an  emphatic  "  scat !  "  and  a 
stick  tossed  her  way.  She  instantly  dropped 
into  the  grass  and  was  lost  to  view ;  and  as  the 
woodpecker,  whose  eyes  were  sharper  and  his 
position  better  than  mine,  said  no  more,  I  con- 
cluded she  had  taken  the  hint  and  departed. 


IX. 

THE  LITTLE  REDBIRDS. 

WHEX  the  little  redbircls  began  to  visit  the 
lawn  there  were  exciting  times.  At  first  they 
ventured  only  to  the  trees  overlooking  it ;  and 
the  gayly  dressed  father  who  had  them  in 
charge  reminded  me  of  nothing  so  much  as  a 
fussy  young  mother.  He  was  alert  to  the  tips 
of  his  toes,  and  excited,  as  if  the  whole  world 
was  thirsting  for  the  life  of  those  frowzy-headed 
youngsters  in  the  maple.  His  manner  intimated 
that  nobody  ever  had  birdlings  before  ;  indeed, 
that  there  never  had  been,  or  could  be,  just  such 
a  production  as  that  young  family  behind  the 
leaves.  While  they  were  there,  he  flirted  his 
tail,  jerked  himself  around,  crest  standing 
sharply  up,  and  in  every  way  showed  his  sense 
of  importance  and  responsibility. 

As  for  the  young  ones,  after  they  had  been 
hopping  about  the  branches  a  week  or  so,  and 
papa  had  grown  less  madly  anxious  if  one 
looked  at  them,  they  appeared  bright  and  spir- 
ited, dressed  in  the  subdued  and  tasteful  hues 
of  their  mother,  with  pert  little  crests  and  dark 


114  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

beaks.  They  were  not  allowed  on  the  grass, 
and  they  waited  patiently  on  the  tree  while 
their  provider  shelled  a  kernel  and  took  it  up  to 
them.  The  cardinal  baby  I  found  to  be  a  self- 
respecting  individual,  who  generally  waits  in 
patience  his  parents'  pleasure,  though  he  is  not 
too  often  fed.  He  is  not  bumptious  nor  self- 
assertive,  like  many  others ;  he  rarely  teases, 
and  is  altogether  a  well-mannered  and  proper 
young  person.  After  a  while,  as  the  youngsters 
learned  strength  and  speed  on  the  wing,  they 
came  to  the  table  with  the  grown-ups,  and  then 
I  saw  there  were  three  spruce  young  redbirds, 
all  under  the  care  of  their  gorgeous  papa. 

No  sooner  did  they  appear  on  the  ground 
than  trouble  began  with  the  English-sparrow 
tribe.  The  grievance  of  these  birds  was  that 
they  could  not  manage  the  tough  kernels.  They 
were  just  as  hungry  as  anybody,  and  just  as 
well -disposed  toward  corn,  but  they  had  not 
sufficient  strength  of  beak  to  break  it.  They 
did  not,  however,  go  without  corn,  for  all  that. 
Their  game  was  the  not  uncommon  one  of  avail- 
ing themselves  of  the  labor  of  others ;  they  in- 
vited themselves  to  everybody's  breakfast-table, 
though,  to  be  sure,  they  had  to  watch  their 
chances  in  order  to  secure  a  morsel,  and  escape 
the  wrath  of  the  owner  thereof. 

The  cardinal  was  at  first  a  specially  easy  vie- 


IMPUDENCE  OF  THE  SPAEROWS.        115 

tim  to  this  plot.  He  took  the  whole  matter 
most  solemnly,  and  was  so  absorbed  in  the  work, 
that  if  a  bit  dropped,  in  the  process  of  separat- 
ing it  from  the  shell,  as  often  happened,  he  did 
not  concern  himself  about  it  till  he  had  finished 
what  he  had  in  his  mouth,  and  then  he  turned 
one  great  eye  on  the  ground,  for  the  fragments 
which  had  long  before  been  snatched  by  spar- 
rows and  gone  down  sparrow  throats.  The  sur- 
prise and  the  solemn  stare  with  which  he 
"  could  hardly  believe  his  eyes  "  were  exceed- 
ingly droll.  After  a  while  he  saw  through  their 
little  game,  and  took  to  watching,  and  when  a 
sparrow  appeared  too  much  interested  in  his 
operations,  he  made  a  feint  of  going  for  him, 
which  warned  the  gamin  that  he  would  better 
look  out  for  himself. 

It  did  not  take  these  sharp  fellows  long  to 
discover  that  the  young  redbird  was  the  easier 
prey,  and  soon  every  youngster  on  the  ground 
was  attended  by  a  sparrow  or  two,  ready  to  seize 
upon  any  fragment  that  fell.  The  parent's  way 
of  feeding  was  to  shell  a  kernel  and  then  give  it 
to  one  of  the  little  ones,  who  broke  it  up  and  ate 
it.  From  waiting  for  fallen  bits,  the  sparrows, 
never  being  repulsed,  grew  bolder,  and  finally 
went  so  far  as  actually  to  snatch  the  corn  out  of 
the  young  cardinals'  beaks.  Again  and  again 
did  I  see  this  performance  :  a  sparrow  grab  and 


116  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

run  (or  fly),  leaving  the  baby  astonished  and 
dazed,  looking  as  if  he  did  not  know  exactly 
what  had  happened,  but  sure  he  was  in  some 
way  bereaved. 

One  day,  while  the  cardinal  family  were  eat- 
ing on  the  grass,  the  mother  of  the  brood  came 
to  a  tree  near  by.  At  once  her  gallant  spouse 
flew  up  there  and  offered  her  the  mouthful  he 
had  just  prepared,  then  returned  to  his  duties. 
She  was  rarely  seen  on  the  lawn,  and  I  judged 
that  she  was  sitting  again. 

Sometimes,  when  the  youngsters  were  alone 
on  the  ground,  I  heard  a  little  snatch  of  song, 
two  or  three  notes,  a  musical  word  or  two  of 
very  sweet  quality.  The  woodpecker,  autocrat 
though  he  assumed  to  be,  did  not  at  first  inter- 
fere with  the  young  birds  ;  but  as  they  became 
more  and  more  independent  and  grown  up,  he 
began  to  consider  them  fair  game,  and  to  come 
down  on  them  with  a  rush  that  scattered  them ; 
not  far,  however  ;  they  were  brave  little  fellows. 

At  last,  after  four  weeks  of  close  attention, 
the  cardinal  made  up  his  mind  that  his  young 
folk  were  babies  no  longer,  and  that  they  were 
able  to  feed  themselves.  I  was  interested  to  see 
his  manner  of  intimating  to  his  young  hopefuls 
that  they  had  reached  their  majority.  When 
one  begged  of  him,  in  his  gentle  way,  the  parent 
turned  suddenly  and  gave  him  a  slight  push. 


HE  FED   THE  BEGGAR!  117 

The  urchin  understood,  and  moved  a  little  far- 
ther off  ;  but  perhaps  the  next  time  he  asked  he 
would  be  fed.  They  learned  the  lesson,  how- 
ever, and  in  less  than  two  days  from  the  first 
hint  they  became  almost  entirely  independent. 

One  morning-  the  whole  family  happened  to 
meet  at  table.  The  mother  came  first,  and  then 
the  three  young  ones,  all  of  whom  were  trying 
their  best  to  feed  themselves.  At  last  came 
their  "  natural  provider  ;  "  and  one  of  the  juve- 
niles, who  found  the  grains  almost  unmanage- 
able, could  not  help  begging  of  him.  He  gently 
but  firmly  drove  the  pleader  away,  as  if  he  said, 
"  My  son,  you  are  big  enough  to  feed  yourself." 
The  little  one  turned,  but  did  not  go  ;  he  stood 
with  his  back  toward  his  parent,  and  wings  still 
fluttering.  Then  papa  flew  to  a  low  branch  of 
the 'spruce-tree,  and  instantly  the  infant  followed 
him,  still  begging  with  quivering  wings.  Sud- 
denly the  elder  turned,  and  I  expected  to  see 
him  annihilate  that  beggar,  but,  to  my  surprise, 
he  fed  him!  He  could  not  hold  out  against 
him  !  He  had  been  playing  the  stern  parent, 
but  could  not  keep  it  up.  It  was  a  very  pretty 
and  very  human-looking  performance. 

A  day  or  two  after  the  family  had  learned  to 
take  care  of  themselves,  the  original  pair,  the 
parents  of  the  pretty  brood,  came  alid  went  to- 
gether to  the  field,  while  the  younglings  ap- 


118  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

peared  sometimes  in  a  little  flock,  and  some- 
times one  alone  ;  and  from  that  time  they  were 
to  be  rated  as  grown-up  and  educated  cardinals. 
A  brighter  or  prettier  trio  I  have  not  seen.  I 
am  almost  positive  there  was  but  one  family 
of  cardinals  on  the  place ;  and  if  I  am  right, 
those  youngsters  had  been  four  weeks  out  of  the 
nest  before  they  took  charge  of  their  own  food 
supply.  From  what  I  have  seen  in  the  case  of 
other  young  birds,  I  have  no  doubt  that  is  the 
fact. 


X. 

THE  CARDINAL'S  NEST. 

WHILE  I  had  been  studying  four  o'clock  man- 
ners, grave  and  gay,  other  things  had  happened. 
Most  delightful,  perhaps,  was  my  acquaintance 
with  a  cardinal  family  at  home.  From  the  first 
I  had  looked  for  a  nest,  and  had  suffered  two  or 
three  disappointments.  One  pair  flaunted  their 
intentions  by  appearing  on  a  tree  before  my 
window,  "  tsipping  "  with  all  their  might ;  she 
with  her  beak  full  of  hay  from  the  lawn  below  ; 
he,  eager  and  devoted,  assisting  by  his  presence. 
The  important  and  consequential  manner  of  a 
bird  with  building  material  in  mouth  is  amus- 
ing. She  has  no  doubt  that  what  she  is  about 
to  do  is  the  very  most  momentous  fact  in  the 
"  Sublime  Now  "  (as  some  college  youth  has  it). 
Of  course  I  dropped  everything  and  tried  to 
follow  the  pair,  at  a  distance  great  enough  not 
to  disturb  them,  yet  to  keep  in  sight  at  least  the 
direction  they  took,  for  they  are  shy  birds,  and 
do  not  like  to  be  spied  upon.  But  I  could  not 
have  gauged  my  distance  properly  ;  for,  though 
I  thought  I  knew  the  exact  cedar-tree  she  had 


120  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

chosen,  I  found,  to  my  dismay  and  regret  after- 
ward, that  no  sign  of  a  nest  was  there,  or  there- 
about. 

Another  pair  went  farther,  and  held  out  even 
more  delusive  hopes ;  they  actually  built  a  nest 
in  a  neighbor's  yard,  the  family  in  the  house 
maintaining  an  appearance  of  the  utmost  indif- 
ference, so  as  not  to  alarm  the  birds  till  they 
were  committed  to  that  nest.  For  so  little  does 
madam  regard  the  labor  of  building,  and  so 
fickle  is  she  hi  her  fancies,  that  she  thinks  no- 
thing of  preparing  at  least  two  nests  before  she 
settles  on  one.  The  nest  was  made  on  a  big 
branch  of  cedar,  perhaps  seven  feet  from  the 
ground,  —  a  rough  affair,  as  this  bird  always 
makes.  In  it  she  even  placed  an  egg,  and  then, 
for  some  undiscovered  reason,  it  was  abandoned, 
and  they  took  their  domestic  joys  and  sorrows 
elsewhere. 

But  now,  at  last,  word  came  to  me  of  an  occu- 
pied nest  to  be  seen  at  a  certain  house,  and  I 
started  at  once  for  it.  It  was  up  a  shady  coun- 
try lane,  with  a  meadow-lark  field  on  one  side, 
and  a  bobolink  meadow  on  the  other.  The  lark 
mounted  the  fence,  and  delivered  his  strange 
sputtering  cry, — the  first  I  had  ever  heard 
from  him  (or  her,  for  I  believe  this  is  the  fe- 
male's utterance).  But  the  dear  little  bobolink 
soared  around  my  head,  and  let  fall  his  happy 


NEST  AMONG  THE  ROSES.  121 

trills;  then  suddenly,  as  Lowell  delightfully 
pictures  him,  — 

"  Remembering  duty,  in  mid-quaver  stops, 

Just  ere  he  sweeps  o'er  rapture's  tremulous  brink, 

And  'twixt  the  winrows  most  demurely  drops, 
A  decorous  bird  of  business,  who  provides 
For  his  brown  mate  and  fledglings  six  besides, 

And  looks  from  right  to  left,  a  farmer  mid  his  crops." 

Nothing  less  attractive  than  a  cardinal  family 
could  draw  me  away  from  these  rival  allure- 
ments, but  I  went  on. 

The  cardinal's  bower  was  the  prettiest  of  the 
summer,  built  in  a  climbing  rose  which  ran  riot 
over  a  trellis  beside  a  kitchen  door.  The  vine 
was  loaded  with  buds  just  beginning  to  unfold 
their  green  wraps  to  flood  the  place  with  beauty 
and  fragrance,  and  the  nest  was  so  carefully 
tucked  away  behind  the  leaves  that  it  could  not 
be  seen  from  the  front.  Whether  from  confi- 
dence in  the  two  or  three  residents  of  the  cot- 
tage, or  because  the  house  was  alone  so  many 
hours  of  the  day,  —  the  occupants  being  stu- 
dents, and  absent  most  of  the  time,  —  the  birds 
had  taken  no  account  of  a  window  which  opened 
almost  behind  them.  From  that  window  one 
could  look  into,  and  touch,  if  he  desired,  the 
little  family.  But  no  one  who  lived  there  did 
desire  (though  I  wish  to  record  that  one  was  a 
boy  of  twelve  or  fourteen,  who  had  been  taught 
respect  for  the  lives  even  of  birds),  and  these 


122  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

birds  became  so  accustomed  to  their  human  ob- 
servers that  they  paid  no  attention  to  them. 

The  female  cardinal  is  so  dainty  in  looks  and 
manner,  so  delicate  in  all  her  ways,  that  one 
naturally  expects  her  to  build  at  least  a  neat 
and  comely  nest,  and  I  was  surprised  to  see  a 
rough-looking  affair,  similar  to  the  one  already 
mentioned.  This  might  be,  in  her  case,  because 
it  was  the  third  nest  she  had  built  that  sum- 
mer. One  had  been  used  for  the  first  brood. 
The  second  had  been  seized  and  appropriated 
to  their  own  use  by  another  pair  of  birds.  (As 
this  was  told  me,  and  I  cannot  vouch  for  it,  I 
shall  not  name  the  alleged  thief.)  This,  the 
third,  was  made  of  twigs  and  fibres  of  bark,  — 
or  what  looked  like  that,  —  and  was  strongly 
stayed  to  the  rose  stems,  the  largest  of  which 
was  not  bigger  than  my  little  finger,  and  most 
of  them  much  smaller. 

On  my  second  visit  I  was  invited  into  the 
kitchen  to  see  the  family  in  the  rosebush.  It 
appeared  that  this  was  "  coming-off  "  day,  and 
one  little  cardinal  had  already  taken  his  fate  in 
his  hands  when  I  arrived,  soon  after  breakfast. 
He  had  progressed  on  the  journey  of  life  about 
one  foot ;  and  a  mere  dot  of  a  fellow  he  looked 
beside  his  parents,  with  a  downy  fuzz  on  his 
head,  which  surrounded  it  like  a  halo,  and  no 
sign  of  a  crest.  The  three  nestlings  still  at 


THE  FIRST  BABY  OUT.  123 

home  were  very  restless,  crowding,  and  almost 
pushing  each  other  out.  They  could  well  spare 
their  elder  brother,  for  before  he  left  he  had 
walked  all  over  them  at  his  pleasure ;  and  how 
he  could  help  it  in  those  close  quarters  I  do 
not  see. 

While  I  looked  on,  papa  came  with  provi- 
sions. At  one  time  the  food  consisted  of  green 
worms  about  twice  as  large  as  a  common  knit- 
ting needle.  Three  or  four  of  them  he  held 
crosswise  of  his  beak,  and  gave  one  to  each 
nestling.  The  next  course  was  a  big  white  grub, 
which  he  did  not  divide,  but  gave  to  one,  who 
had  considerable  difficulty  in  swallowing  it. 

I  said  the  birds  did  not  notice  the  family,  but 
they  very  quickly  recognized  me  as  a  stranger. 
They  stood  and  glared  at  me  in  the  cardinal 
way,  and  uttered  some  sharp  remonstrance ;  but 
business  was  pressing,  and  I  was  unobtrusive, 
so  they  concluded  to  ignore  me. 

The  advent  of  the  first  redbird  baby  seemed 
to  give  much  pleasure,  for  the  head  of  the  family 
sang  a  good  deal  in  the  intervals  of  feeding; 
and  both  of  the  pair  appeared  very  happy  over 
it,  often  alighting  beside  the  wanderer,  evidently 
to  encourage  him,  for  they  did  not  always  feed. 
The  youngster,  after  an  hour,  perhaps,  flew 
about  ten  feet  to  a  peach-tree,  where  he  strug- 
gled violently,  and  nearly  fell  before  he  secured 


124  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

a  hold  on  a  twig.  Both  parents  flew  to  his 
assistance,  but  he  did  not  fall,  and  soon  after 
he  flew  to  a  grape  trellis,  and,  with  a  little 
clambering,  to  a  stem  of  the  vine,  where  he 
seemed  pleased  to  stay,  —  perhaps  because  this 
overlooked  the  garden  whence  came  all  his  food. 

I  stayed  two  or  three  hours  with  the  little 
family,  and  then  left  them;  and  when  I  ap- 
peared the  next  morning  all  were  gone  from 
the  nest.  I  heard  the  gentle  cries  of  young  red- 
birds  all  around,  but  did  not  try  to  look  them 
up,  both  because  I  did  not  want  to  worry  the 
parents,  and  because  I  had  already  made  ac- 
quaintance with  young  cardinals  in  my  four 
o'clock  studies. 

The  place  this  discerning  pair  of  birds  had 
selected  in  which  to  establish  themselves  was 
one  of  the  most  charming  nooks  in  the  vicinity. 
Kept  free  from  English  sparrows  (by  persist- 
ently destroying  their  nests),  and  having  but 
a  small  and  quiet  family,  it  was  the  delight  of 
cardinals  and  catbirds.  Without  taking  pains 
to  look  for  them,  one  might  see  the  nests  of  two 
catbirds,  two  wood  doves,  a  robin  or  two,  and 
others;  and  there  were  beside,  thickets,  the  de- 
light of  many  birds,  and  a  row  of  spruces 
so  close  that  a  whole  flock  might  have  nested 
there  in  security.  In  that  spot  "  the  quaintly 
discontinuous  kys  "  of  the  catbird  were  in  per- 


"SPEED  THE  PARTING  GUEST."        125 

f ection ;  one  song  especially  was  the  best  I  ever 
heard,  being  louder  and  more  clear  than  catbirds 
usually  sing. 

As  I  turned  to  leave  the  grounds,  the  relieved 
parent,  who  had  not  relished  my  interest  in  his 
little  folk,  mounted  a  branch,  and, 

"  Like  a  pomegranate  flower 
In  the  dark  foliage  of  the  cedar-tree, 
Shone  out  and  sang  for  me." 

And  thus  I  left  him. 


XI. 
LITTLE  BOY  BLUE. 

"  The  crested  blue  jay  flitting  swift." 

To  know  the  little  boy  blue  in  his  domestic 
life  had  been  my  desire  for  years.  In  vain  did 
I  search  far  and  wide  for  a  nest,  till  it  began  to 
look  almost  as  if  the  bird  intentionally  avoided 
me.  I  went  to  New  England,  and  blue  jays  dis- 
appeared as  if  by  magic ;  I  turned  my  steps  to 
the  Kocky  Mountains,  and  the  whole  tribe  betook 
itself  to  the  inaccessible  hills.  In  despair  I 
abandoned  the  search,  and  set  up  my  tent  in  the 
middle  country,  without  a  thought  of  the  bonny 
blue  bird.  One  June  morning  I  seated  myself 
by  my  window,  which  looked  out  upon  a  goodly 
stretch  of  lawn  dotted  with  trees  of  many  kinds, 
and  behold  the  long-desired  object  right  before 
my  eyes ! 

The  blue  jay  himself  pointed  it  out  to  me ; 
unconsciously,  however,  for  he  did  not  notice 
me  in  my  distant  window.  From  the  ground, 
where  I  was  looking  at  him,  he  flew  directly  to 
a  pine-tree  about  thirty  feet  high,  and  there, 
near  the  top,  sat  his  mate  on  her  nest.  He 


A  POLITE  JAY.  127 

leaned  over  her  tenderly;  she  fluttered  her 
wings  and  opened  her  mouth,  and  he  dropped 
into  it  the  tidbit  he  had  brought.  Then  she 
stepped  to  a  branch  on  one  side,  and  he  pro- 
ceeded to  attend  to  the  wants  of  the  young 
family,  too  small  as  yet  to  appear  above  the 
edge. 

The  pine-tree,  which  from  this  moment  be- 
came of  absorbing  interest,  was  so  far  from  my 
window  that  the  birds  never  thought  of  me  as 
an  observer,  and  yet  so  near  that  with  my  glass 
I  could  see  them  perfectly.  It  was  also  ex- 
actly before  a  thick-foliaged  maple,  that  formed 
a  background  against  which  I  could  watch  the 
life  of  the  nest,  wherever  the  sunlight  fell,  and 
whatever  the  condition  of  the  sky;  so  happily 
was  placed  my  blue  jay  household. 

I  observed  at  once  that  the  jay  was  very  gal- 
lant and  attentive  to  his  spouse.  The  first 
mouthful  was  for  her,  even  when  babies  grew 
clamorous,  and  she  took  her  share  of  the  work 
of  feeding.  Nor  did  he  omit  this  little  polite- 
ness when  they  went  to  the  nest  together,  both 
presumably  with  food  for  the  nestlings.  She 
was  a  devoted  mother,  brooding  her  bantlings 
for  hours  every  day,  till  they  were  so  big  that  it 
was  hard  to  crowd  them  back  into  the  cradle  ; 
and  he  was  an  equally  faithful  father,  working 
from  four  o'clock  in  the  morning  till  after  dusk, 


128  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

a  good  deal  of  the  time  feeding  the  whole  family. 
I  acquired  a  new  respect  for  Cyanotitta  cristata. 

I  had  not  watched  the  blue  jays  long  before  I 
was  struck  with  the  peculiar  character  of  the 
feathered  world  about  me,  the  strange  absence 
of  small  birds.  The  neighbors  were  blackbirds 
(purple  grackles),  Carolina  doves,  golden-winged 
and  red-headed  woodpeckers,  robins  and  cardinal 
grosbeaks,  and  of  course  English  sparrows,  —  all 
large  birds,  able  to  hold  their  own  by  force  of 
arms,  as  it  were,  except  the  foreigner,  who  main- 
tained his  position  by  impudence  and  union,  a 
mob  being  his  weapon  of  offense  and  defense. 
Beside  him  no  small  bird  lived  in  the  vicinity. 
No  vireo  hung  there  her  dainty  cup,  while  her 
mate  preached  his  interminable  sermons  from 
the  trees  about ;  no  phoebe  shouted  his  woes  to 
an  unsympathizing  world ;  no  sweet-voiced  gold- 
finch poured  out  his  joyous  soul ;  not  a  song- 
sparrow  tuned  his  little  lay  within  our  borders. 
Unseen  of  men,  but  no  doubt  sharply  defined 
to  clearer  senses  than  ours,  was  a  line  barring 
them  out. 

Who  was  responsible  for  this  state  of  things  ? 
Could  it  be  the  one  pair  of  jays  in  the  pine,  or 
the  colony  of  blackbirds  the  other  side  of  the 
house?  Should  we  characterize  it  as  a  blue 
jay  neighborhood  or  a  blackbird  neighborhood  ? 
The  place  was  well  policed,  certainly ;  robins 


SPARROWS  AT  THE  BOTTOM  OF  IT.    129 

and  blue  jays  united  in  that  work,  though  their 
relations  with  each  other  bore  the  character  of 
an  armed  neutrality,  always  ready  for  a  few  hot 
words  and  a  little  bluster,  but  never  really  com- 
ing to  blows.  We  never  had  the  pleasure  of 
seeing  a  stranger  among  us.  We  might  hear 
him  approaching,  nearer  and  nearer,  till,  just  as 
the  eager  listener  fancied  he  might  alight  in 
sight,  there  would  burst  upon  the  air  the  screech 
of  a  jay  or  the  war-cry  of  a  robin,  accompanied 
by  the  precipitate  flight  of  the  whole  clan,  and 
away  would  go  the  stranger  in  a  most  sensational 
manner,  followed  by  outcries  and  clamor  enough 
to  drive  off  an  army  of  feathered  brigands.  This 
neighborhood,  if  the  accounts  of  his  character 
are  to  be  credited,  should  be  the  congenial  home 
of  the  kingbird,  —  tyrant  flycatcher  he  is  named ; 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact,  not  only  were  the  smaller 
flycatchers  conspicuous  by  their  absence,  but  the 
king  himself  was  never  seen,  and  the  flying 
tribes  of  the  insect  world,  so  far  as  dull-eyed 
mortals  could  see,  grew  and  flourished. 

Close  scrutiny  of  every  movement  of  wings, 
however,  revealed  one  thing,  namely,  that  any 
small  bird  who  appeared  within  our  precincts 
was  instantly,  without  hesitation,  and  equally 
without  unusual  noise  or  special  publicity,  driven 
out  by  the  English  sparrow  ;  and  I  became  con- 
vinced that  he,  and  he  alone,  was  responsible  for 


130  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

the  presence  of  none  but  large  birds,  who  could 
defy  him. 

One  of  the  prettiest  sights  about  the  pine-tree 
homestead  was  the  way  the  jay  went  up  to  it. 
He  never  imitated  the  easy  style  of  his  mate, 
who  simply  flew  to  a  branch  below  the  three  that 
held  her  treasure,  and  hopped  up  the  last  step. 
Not  he ;  not  so  would  his  knightly  soul  mount 
to  the  castle  of  his  sweetheart  and  his  babies. 
He  alighted  much  lower,  often  at  the  foot  of  the 
tree,  and  passed  jauntily  up  the  winding  way  that 
led  to  them,  hopping  from  branch  to  branch, 
pausing  on  each,  and  circling  the  trunk  as  he 
went ;  now  showing  his  trim  violet-blue  coat, 
now  his  demure  Quaker-drab  vest  and  black 
necklace ;  and  so  he  ascended  his  spiral  stair. 

There  is  nothing  demure  about  the  blue  jay, 
let  me  hasten  to  say,  except  his  vest;  there  is 
no  pretension  about  him.  He  does  not  go  around 
with  the  meek  manners  of  the  dove,  and  then  let 
his  angry  passions  rise,  in  spite  of  his  reputation, 
as  does  that  "  meek  and  gentle  "  fellow-creature 
on  occasion.  The  blue  jay  takes  his  life  with 
the  utmost  seriousness,  however  it  may  strike  a 
looker-on.  While  his  helpmeet  is  on  the  nest,  it 
is,  according  to  the  blue  jay  code,  his  duty,  as 
well  as  it  is  plainly  his  pleasure,  to  provide  her 
with  food,  which  consequently  he  does  ;  later,  it 
is  his  province  not  only  to  feed,  but  to  protect 


THE  VALUE  OF  TAILS.  131 

the  family,  which  also  he  accomplishes  with 
much  noise  and  bluster.  Before  the  young  are 
out  comes  his  hardest  task,  keeping  the  secret  of 
the  nest,  which  obliges  him  to  control  his  natu- 
rally boisterous  tendencies  ;  but  even  in  this  he 
is  successful,  as  I  saw  in  the  case  of  a  bird  whose 
mate  was  sitting  in  an  apple-tree  close  beside  a 
house.  There,  he  was  the  soul  of  discretion,  and 
so  subdued  in  manner  that  one  might  be  in  the 
vicinity  all  day  and  never  suspect  the  presence 
of  either.  All  the  comings  and  goings  took 
place  in  silence,  over  the  top  of  the  tree,  and  I 
have  watched  the  nest  an  hour  at  a  time  without 
being  able  to  see  a  sign  of  its  occupancy,  except 
the  one  thing  a  sitting  bird  cannot  hide,  the  tail. 
And,  by  the  way,  how  providential  —  from  the 
bird  student's  point  of  view  —  that  birds  have 
tails  !  They  can,  it  is  true,  be  narrowed  to  the 
width  of  one  feather  and  laid  against  a  conven- 
ient twig,  but  they  cannot  be  wholly  suppressed, 
nor  drawn  down  out  of  sight  into  the  nest  with 
the  rest  of  the  body. 

When  the  young  blue  jays  begin  to  speak  for 
themselves,  and  their  vigilant  protector  feels 
that  the  precious  secret  can  no  longer  be  kept, 
then  he  arouses  the  neighborhood  with  the  an- 
nouncement that  here  is  a  nest  he  is  bound  to 
protect  with  his  life  ;  that  he  is  engaged  in  per- 
forming his  most  solemn  duty,  and  will  not  be 


132  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

disturbed.  His  air  is  that  so  familiar  in  bigger 
folk,  of  daring  the  whole  world  to  "  knock  a  chip 
off  his  shoulder,"  and  he  goes  about  with  an 
appearance  of  important  business  on  hand  very 
droll  to  see. 

The  bearing  of  the  mother  of  the  pine-tree 
brood  was  somewhat  different  from  that  of  her 
mate,  and  by  their  manners  only  could  the  pair 
be  distinguished.  Whatever  may  be  Nature's 
reason  for  dressing  the  sexes  unlike  each  other 
in  the  feathered  world,  —  which  I  will  leave  for 
the  wise  heads  to  settle,  —  it  is  certainly  an  im- 
mense advantage  to  the  looker-on  in  birddom. 
When  a  pair  are  facsimiles  of  each  other,  as 
are  the  jays,  it  requires  the  closest  observation 
to  tell  them  apart ;  indeed,  unless  there  is  some 
defect  in  plumage,  which  is  not  uncommon,  it  is 
necessary  to  penetrate  their  personal  characteris- 
tics, to  become  familiar  with  their  idiosyncrasies 
of  habit  and  manner.  In  the  pine-tree  family, 
the  mother  had  neither  the  presence  of  mind  nor 
the  bluster  of  the  partner  of  her  joys.  When  I 
came  too  near  the  nest  tree,  she  greeted  me  with 
a  plaintive  cry,  a  sort  of  "  craw !  craw !  "  at  the 
same  time  "  jouncing" herself  violently,  thus  pro- 
testing against  my  intrusion  ;  while  he  saluted 
me  with  squawks  that  made  the  welkin  ring. 
Neither  of  them  paid  any  attention  to  me,  so 
long  as  I  remained  upon  a  stationary  bench  not 


BLUE  JAY  TALK.  133 

far  from  their  tree ;  they  were  used  to  seeing 
people  in  that  place,  and  did  not  mind  them.  It 
was  the  unexpected  that  they  resented.  Having 
established  our  habits,  birds  in  general  insist 
that  we  shall  govern  ourselves  by  them,  and  not 
depart  from  our  accustomed  orbit. 

On  near  acquaintance,  I  found  the  jay  pos- 
sessed of  a  vocabulary  more  copious  than  that  of 
any  other  bird  I  know,  though  the  flicker  does 
not  lack  variety  of  expression.  When  some 
aspiring  scientist  is  ready  to  study  the  language 
of  birds,  I  advise  him  to  experiment  with  the 
blue  jay.  He  is  exceedingly  voluble,  always 
ready  to  talk,  and  not  in  the  least  backward  in 
exhibiting  his  accomplishments.  The  low-toned, 
plaintive  sounding  conversation  of  the  jays  with 
each  other,  not  only  beside  the  nest,  but  when 
flying  together  or  apart,  or  in  brief  interviews 
in  the  lilac  bush,  pleased  me  especially,  because 
it  was  exactly  the  same  prattle  that  a  pet  blue 
jay  was  accustomed  to  address  to  me ;  and  it 
confirmed  what  I  had  always  believed  from  his 
manner,  that  it  was  his  most  loving  and  intimate 
expression,  the  tone  in  which  he  addresses  his 
best  beloved. 

Beside  the  well-known  squawk,  which  Thoreau 
aptly  calls  "  the  brazen  trump  of  the  impatient 
jay,"  the  shouts  and  calls  and  war-cries  of  the 
bird  can  hardly  be  numbered,  and  I  have  no 


134  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

doubt  each  has  its  definite  meaning.      More 
rarely  may  be  heard  a  clear  and  musical  two- 
note  cry,  sounding  like  "  ke-lo !  ke-lo  !  "     This 
seems  to  be  something   special  in  the  jay  lan- 
guage, for  not  only  is  it  peculiar  and  quite  un- 
like every  other  utterance,  but  I  never  saw  the 
bird  when  he  delivered  it,  and  I  was  long  in  tra- 
cing it  home  to  him.     Aside  from  the  cries  of 
war  and  victory,  jays  have  a  great  variety  of 
notes  of  distress  ;    they  can  put  more   anguish 
and  despair  into  their  tones  than  any  other  liv- 
ing creature  of  my  acquaintance.    Some,  indeed, 
are  so  moving  that  the  sympathetic  hearer  is  sure 
that,  at  the  very  least,  the  mother's  offspring  are 
being  murdered  before  her  eyes ;  and  on  rushing 
out,  prepared  to  risk  his  life  in  their  defense,  he 
finds,  perhaps,  that  a  child  has  strayed  near  the 
tree,  or  something  equally  dreadful  has  occurred. 
Jays  have  no  idea  of  relative  values  ;  they  could 
not  make  more  ado  over  a  heart-breaking  calamity 
than  they  do  over  a  slight  annoyance.     Some  of 
their  cries,  notably  that  of  the  jay  baby,  sound 
like  the  wail  of  a  human   infant.     As   to  one 
curious  utterance  in  the  jay  repertoire,  I  could 
not  quite  make  up  my  mind  whether  it  was  a 
real  call  to  arms,  or  intended  as  a  joke  on  the 
neighborhood.      When  a  bird,  without   visible 
provocation,  suddenly  burst  out  with  this  loud 
two-note  call,  instantly  every  feathered  individ- 


UNEXPLAINED  EXCITEMENT.          135 

ual  was  on  the  alert,  —  sprang  to  arms,  as  it 
were.  Blue  jays  joined  in,  robins  hurried  to  the 
tops  of  the  tallest  trees  and  added  their  excited 
notes,  with  jerking  wings  and  tail,  and  at  the 
second  or  third  repetition  the  whole  party  pre- 
cipitated itself  as  one  bird  —  upon  what  ?  No- 
thing that  I  could  discover. 


XII. 
STORY  OF  THE  NESTLINGS. 

WHILE  I  was  studying  the  manners  and  cus- 
toms of  the  bird  in  blue,  babies  were  growing 
up  in  the  pine-tree  nest.  Five  days  after  I  be- 
gan to  observe,  I  saw  little  heads  above  the 
edge.  On  the  sixth  day  they  began,  as  mothers 
say,  to  "  take  notice,"  stirring  about  in  a  lively 
way,  clambering  up  into  sight,  and  fluttering 
their  draperies  over  the  edge.  Now  came  busy 
and  hungry  times  in  the  jay  family ;  the  mother 
added  her  forces,  and  both  parents  worked  in- 
dustriously from  morning  till  night. 

On  the  seventh  day  I  was  up  early,  as  usual, 
and,  also  as  usual,  my  first  act  was  to  admire 
the  view  from  my  window.  I  fancied  it  was  the 
most  beautiful  in  the  early  morning,  when  the 
sun,  behind  the  rampart  of  locust  and  other 
trees,  threw  the  yard  into  deep  shade,  painting 
a  thousand  shadow  pictures  on  the  grass ;  but 
at  still  noon,  when  every  perfect  tree  stood  on 
its  own  shadow,  openings  looked  dark  and  mys- 
terious, and  a  bird  was  lost  in  the  depths,  then  I 
was  sure  it  was  never  so  lovely ;  again  at  night, 


EVERY  ONE  WANTED  TO  BE  ON  TOP.    137 

when  wrapped  in  darkness,  and  all  silent  except 
the  subdued  whisper  of  the  pine,  with  its 

"  Sound  of  the  Sea, 

O  mournful  tree, 

In  thy  boughs  forever  clinging1," 

I  knew  it  could  not  be  surpassed.  I  was  up 
early,  as  I  said,  when  the  dove  was  cooing  to  his 
mate  in  the  distance,  and  before  human  noises 
had  begun,  and  then  I  heard  the  baby  cry  from 
the  pine-tree,  —  a  whispered  jay  squawk,  con- 
stantly repeated. 

On  this  day  the  first  nestling  mounted  the 
edge  of  his  high  nursery,  and  fluttered  his  wings 
when  food  approached.  Every  night  after  that 
it  grew  more  and  more  difficult  to  settle  the 
household  in  bed,  for  everybody  wanted  to  be  on 
top ;  and  no  sooner  would  one  arrange  himself 
to  his  mind  than  some  "  under  one,"  not  relish- 
ing his  crushed  position,  would  struggle  out,  step 
over  his  brothers  and  sisters,  and  take  his  place 
on  top,  and  then  the  whole  thing  would  have  to 
be  done  over.  I  think  that  mamma  had  often 
to  put  a  peremptory  end  to  these  difficulties  by 
sitting  down  on  them,  for  frequently  it  was  a 
very  turbulent-looking  nest  when  she  calmly 
placed  herself  upon  it. 

Often,  in  those  days,  I  wished  I  could  put 
myself  on  a  level  with  that  little  castle  in  the 
air,  and  look  into  it,  filled  to  the  brim  with 


138  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

beauty  as  I  knew  it  was.  But  I  had  not  long 
to  wait,  for  speedily  it  became  too  full,  and  ran 
over  into  the  outside  world.  On  the  eighth  day 
one  ambitious  youngster  stepped  upon  the 
branch  beside  the  nest  and  shook  himself  out, 
and  on  the  ninth  came  the  plunge  into  the  wide, 
wide  world.  While  I  was  at  breakfast  he  made 
his  first  effort,  and  on  my  return  I  saw  him  on 
a  branch  about  a  foot  below  the  nest,  the  last 
step  on  papa's  winding  stair.  Here  he  beat  his 
wings  and  plumed  himself  vigorously,  rejoicing, 
no  doubt,  in  his  freedom  and  in  plenty  of  room. 
Again  and  again  he  nearly  lost  his  balance,  in 
his  violent  attempts  to  dress  his  beautiful 
plumage,  and  remove  the  last  remnant  of  nest 
mussiness.  But  he  did  not  fall,  and  at  last  he 
began  to  look  about  him.  One  cannot  but  won- 
der what  he  thought  when  he 

"  First  opened  wondering  eyes  and  found 
A  world  of  green  leaves  all  around," 

looking  down  upon  us  from  his  high  perch, 
complete  to  the  little  black  necklace,  and  lack- 
ing only  length  of  tail  of  being  as  big  as  his 
parents. 

After  half  an  hour  of  restless  putting  to 
rights,  the  little  jay  sat  down  patiently  to  wait 
for  whatever  might  come  to  him.  The  wind  got 
up  and  shook  him  well,  but  he  rocked  safely  on 
his  airy  seat.  Then  some  one  approached.  He 


SHOULD  HE  GO  BACK?  139 

leaned  over  with  mouth  open,  and  across  the 
yard  I  heard  his  coaxing  voice.  But  alas ! 
though  he  was  on  the  very  threshold,  the  food- 
bearer  omitted  that  step,  and  passed  him  by. 
Then  the  little  one  looked  up  wistfully,  appar- 
ently conscious  of  being  at  a  disadvantage.  Did 
he  regret  the  nest  privileges  he  had  abandoned  ? 
Should  he  retrace  his  steps  and  be  a  nestling  ? 
That  the  thought  passed  through  his  head  was 
indicated  by  his  movements.  He  raised  himself 
on  his  legs,  turned  his  face  to  his  old  home,  and 
started  up,  even  stepped  one  small  twig  nearer. 
But  perish  the  thought !  he  would  not  go  back  ! 
He  settled  himself  again  on  his  seat. 

All  things  come  in  time  to  him  who  can  wait, 
and  the  next  provision  stopped  at  the  little  wan- 
derer. His  father  alighted  beside  him  and  fed 
him  two  mouthfuls.  Thus  fortified,  his  ambi- 
tion was  roused,  and  his  desire  to  see  more,  to 
do  more.  He  began  to  jump  about  on  his 
perch,  facing  first  this  way,  then  that ;  he  crept 
to  the  outer  end  of  the  branch  he  was  on,  and 
was  lost  to  view  behind  a  thick  clump  of  pine 
needles.  In  a  few  minutes  he  returned,  consid- 
ered other  branches  near,  and,  after  some  study, 
did  really  go  to  the  nearest  one.  Then,  step  by 
step,  very  deliberately,  he  mounted  the  winding 
stair  of  his  father,  using,  however,  every  little 
twig  that  the  elder  had  vaulted  over  at  a  bound. 


140  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

Finally  he  reached  the  branch  opposite  his 
birthplace,  only  the  tree  -  trunk  between.  The 
trunk  was  small,  home  was  invitingly  near,  he 
was  tired  ;  the  temptation  was  too  great,  and  in 
a  minute  he  was  cuddled  down  with  his  brothers, 
having  been  on  a  journey  of  an  hour.  In  the 
nest,  all  this  time,  there  had  been  a  hurry  and 
skurry  of  dressing,  as  though  the  house  were  to 
be  vacated,  and  no  one  wished  to  be  late.  After 
a  rest  and  probably  a  nap,  the  ambitious  young 
jay  took  a  longer  trip  :  he  flew  to  the  next  tree, 
and,  I  believe,  returned  no  more. 

The  next  day  was  spent  by  all  the  nestlings 
in  hopping  about  the  three  branches  on  which 
their  home  was  built,  making  beautiful  pictures 
of  themselves  every  moment ;  but  whenever  the 
bringer  of  supplies  drew  near,  each  little  one 
hastened  to  scramble  back  to  the  nest,  to  be 
ready  for  his  share.  The  last  day  in  the  old 
home  had  now  arrived.  One  by  one  the  bird- 
lings  flew  to  the  maple,  and  turned  their  backs 
on  their  native  tree  forever  ;  and  that  night  the 
"  mournful  tree  "  was  entirely  deserted. 

The  exit  was  not  accomplished  without  its 
excitement.  After  tea,  as  I  was  congratulating 
myself  that  they  were  all  safely  out  in  the  world, 
without  accident,  suddenly  there  arose  a  terrible 
outcry,  robin  and  blue  jay  voices  in  chorus.  I 
looked  over  to  the  scene  of  the  fray,  and  saw  a 


THE  BABY  CLIMBED  A    TREE.  141 

young  jay  on  the  ground,  and  the  parents  frantic 
with  anxiety.  Naturally,  my  first  impulse  was 
to  go  to  their  aid,  and  I  started ;  but  I  was 
saluted  with  a  volley  of  squawks  that  warned 
me  not  to  interfere.  I  retired  meekly,  leaving 
the  birds  to  deal  with  the  difficulty  as  they  best 
could,  while  from  afar  I  watched  the  little  fel- 
low as  he  scrambled  around  in  the  grass.  He 
tried  to  fly,  but  could  not  rise  more  than  two 
feet.  Both  the  elders  were  with  him,  but 
seemed  unable  to  help  him,  and  night  was  com- 
ing on.  I  resolved,  finally,  to  "  take  my  life  in 
my  hands,"  brave  those  unreasoning  parents, 
and  place  the  infant  out  of  the  way  of  cats  and 
boys. 

As  I  reached  the  doorstep  I  saw  that  the 
youngster  had  begun  to  climb  the  trunk  of  a 
locust-tree.  I  stood  in  amazement  and  saw  that 
baby  climb  six  feet  straight  up  the  trunk.  He 
did  it  by  flying  a  few  inches,  clinging  to  the 
bark  and  resting,  then  flying  a  few  inches  more. 
I  watched,  breathless,  till  he  got  nearly  to  the 
lowest  branch,  when  alas !  his  strength  or  his 
courage  gave  out,  and  he  fell  back  to  the 
ground.  But  he  pulled  himself  together,  and 
after  a  few  minutes  more  of  struggling  through 
the  grass  he  came  to  the  trunk  of  the  maple 
next  his  native  pine.  Up  this  he  went  in  the 
same  way,  till  he  reached  a  branch,  where  I  saw 


142  IN"  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

him  sitting  with  all  the  dignity  of  a  young  jay 
(old  jays  have  no  dignity).  While  he  was  wrest- 
ling with  fate  and  his  life  was  in  the  balance,  the 
parents  had  kept  near  him  and  perfectly  silent, 
unless  some  one  came  near,  when  they  filled  the 
air  with  squawks,  and  appeared  so  savage  that 
I  honestly  believe  they  would  have  attacked  any 
one  who  had  tried  to  lend  a  hand. 

But  still  the  little  blue-coat  had  not  learned 
sufficient  modesty  of  endeavor,  for  the  next 
morning  he  found  himself  again  in  the  grass. 
He  tried  climbing,  but  unfortunately  selected  a 
tree  with  branches  higher  than  he  could  hold 
out  to  reach;  so  he  fell  back  to  the  ground. 
Then  came  the  inexorable  demands  of  breakfast, 
with  which  no  one  who  has  been  up  since  four 
o'clock  will  decline  to  comply.  On  my  return, 
the  straggler  was  mounted  on  a  post  that  held  a 
tennis  net,  three  or  four  feet  from  the  ground. 
One  of  the  old  birds  was  on  the  rope  close  by 
him,  and  there  I  left  them.  Once  more  I  saw 
him  fall,  but  I  concluded  that  since  he  had 
learned  to  climb,  and  the  parents  would  not  ac- 
cept my  assistance  any  way,  he  must  take  care  of 
himself.  I  suppose  he  was  the  youngest  of  the 
brood,  who  could  not  help  imitating  his  elders, 
but  was  not  strong  enough  to  do  as  they  did. 
On  the  following  day  he  was  able  to  keep  his 
place,  and  he  came  to  the  ground  no  more. 


IN   THEIR  BRAND-NEW  SUITS.         143 

From  that  day  I  saw,  and,  what  was  more 
evident,  heard  the  jay  babies  constantly,  though 
they  wandered  far  from  the  place  of  their  birth. 
Their  voices  waxed  stronger  day  by  day ;  from 
morning  to  night  they  called  vigorously  ;  and 
very  lovely  they  looked  as  they  sat  on  the 
branches  in  their  brand-new  fluffy  suits,  with 
their  tails  a  little  spread,  and  showing  the  snowy 
borderings  beautifully.  Twenty-two  days  after 
they  bade  farewell  to  the  old  home  before  my 
window  they  were  still  crying  for  food,  still  fol- 
lowing their  hard-working  parents,  and,  though 
flying  with  great  ease,  never  coming  to  the 
ground  (that  I  could  see),  and  apparently  hav- 
ing not  the  smallest  notion  of  looking  out  for 
themselves. 


XIII. 
BLUE  JAY  MANNERS. 

EAKLY  in  my  acquaintance  with  the  jay  fam- 
ily, wishing  to  induce  the  birds  of  the  vicinity 
to  show  themselves,  I  procured  a  quantity  of 
shelled  corn,  and  scattered  a  few  handfuls  under 
my  window  every  night.  This  gave  me  oppor- 
tunity to  note,  among  other  things,  the  jay's 
way  of  conducting  himself  on  the  ground,  and 
his  table  manners.  To  eat  a  kernel  of  dry  corn, 
he  flew  with  it  to  a  small  branch,  placed  it  be- 
tween his  feet  (the  latter  of  course  being  close 
together),  and,  holding  it  thus,  drew  back  his 
head  and  delivered  a  blow  with  that  pickaxe 
beak  of  his  that  would  have  broken  a  toe  if  he 
had  missed  by  the  shadow  of  an  inch  the  grain 
for  which  it  was  intended.  I  was  always  ner- 
vous when  I  saw  him  do  it,  for  I  expected  an 
accident,  but  none  ever  happened  that  I  know 
of.  When  the  babies  grew  clamorous  all  over 
the  place,  the  jay  used  to  fill  his  beak  with  the 
whole  kernels.  Eight  were  his  limit,  and  those 
kept  the  mouth  open,  with  one  sticking  out  at 
the  tip.  Thus  loaded  he  flew  off,  but  was  back 


IMPORTANT  BUSINESS  ON  HAND.      145 

in  two  minutes  for  another  supply.  The  red- 
headed woodpecker,  who  claimed  to  own  the 
corn-field,  seemed  to  think  this  a  little  grasping, 
and  protested  against  such  a  wholesale  perform- 
ance ;  but  the  overworked  jay  simply  jumped 
one  sido  when  he  came  at  him,  and  went  right 
on  picking  up  corn.  When  he  had  time  to 
spare  from  his  arduous  duties,  he  sometimes  in- 
dulged his  passion  for  burying  things  by  carry- 
ing a  grain  off  on  the  lawn  with  an  air  of 
most  important  business,  and  driving  it  into  the 
ground,  hammering  it  well  down  out  of  sight. 

The  blue  jay's  manner  of  getting  over  the 
ground  was  peculiar,  and  especially  his  way  of 
leaving  it.  He  proceeded  by  high  hops,  bound- 
ing up  from  each  like  a  rubber  ball ;  and  when 
ready  to  fly  he  hopped  farther  and  bounded 
higher  each  time,  till  it  seemed  as  if  he  were 
too  high  to  return,  and  so  took  to  his  wings. 
That  is  exactly  the  way  it  looked  to  an  ob- 
server ;  for  there  is  a  lightness,  an  airiness 
of  bearing  about  this  apparently  heavy  bird 
impossible  to  describe,  but  familiar  to  those  who 
have  watched  him. 

Some  time  after  the  blue  jay  family  had  taken 
to  roaming  about  the  grounds,  I  had  a  pleasing 
little  interview  with  one  of  them  in  the  rasp- 
berry patch.  This  was  a  favorite  resort  of  the 
neighboring  birds,  where  I  often  betook  myself 


146  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

to  see  who  came  to  the  feast.  This  morning  I 
was  sitting  quietly  under  a  spruce-tree,  when 
three  blue  jays  came  flying  toward  me  with  noise 
and  outcries,  evidently  in  excitement  over  some- 
thing. The  one  leading  the  party  had  in  his 
beak  a  white  object,  like  a  piece  of  bread,  and 
was  uttering  low,  complaining  cries  as  he  flew ; 
he  passed  on,  and  the  second  followed  him  ;  but 
the  third  seemed  struck  by  my  appearance,  and 
probably  felt  it  his  duty  to  inquire  into  my 
business,  for  he  alighted  on  a  tree  before  me, 
not  ten  feet  from  where  I  sat.  He  began  in  the 
regular  way,  by  greeting  me  with  a  squawk ; 
for,  like  some  of  his  bigger  (and  wiser  ?)  fel- 
low-creatures, he  assumed  that  a  stranger  must 
be  a  suspicious  personage,  and  an  unusual  posi- 
tion must  mean  mischief.  I  was  very  comfort- 
able, and  I  thought  I  would  see  if  I  could  not 
fool  him  into  thinking  me  a  scarecrow,  compan- 
ion to  those  adorning  the  "  patch  "  at  that  mo- 
ment. I  sat  motionless,  not  using  my  glass, 
but  looking  him  squarely  in  the  eyes.  This 
seemed  to  impress  him ;  he  ceased  squawking, 
and  hopped  a  twig  nearer,  stopped,  turned  one 
calmly  observant  eye  on  me,  then  quickly  changed 
to  the  other,  as  if  to  see  if  the  first  had  not  de- 
ceived him.  Still  I  did  not  move,  and  he  was 
plainly  puzzled  to  make  me  out.  He  came 
nearer  and  nearer,  and  I  moved  only  my  eyes  to 


INTERVIEW  WITH  THE  BLUE  JAY.    147 

keep  them  on  his.  All  this  time  he  did  not 
utter  a  sound,  but  studied  me  as  closely,  and 
to  all  appearances  as  carefully,  as  ever  I  had 
studied  him.  Obviously  he  was  in  doubt  what 
manner  of  creature  it  was,  so  like  the  human 
race,  yet  so  unaccountably  quiet.  He  tried 
to  be  unconcerned,  while  still  not  releasing  me 
from  strict  surveillance ;  he  dressed  his  feathers 
a  little,  uttering  a  soft  whisper  to  himself,  as  if 
he  said,  "  Well,  I  never !  "  then  looked  me  over 
again  more  carefully  than  before.  This  panto- 
mime went  on  for  half  an  hour  or  more ;  and  no 
one  who  had  looked  for  that  length  of  time  into 
the  eyes  of  a  blue  jay  could  doubt  his  intelli- 
gence, or  that  he  had  his  thoughts  and  his  well- 
defined  opinions,  that  he  had  studied  his  ob- 
server very  much  as  she  had  studied  him,  and 
that  she  had  not  fooled  him  in  the  least. 

The  little  boy  blue  is  one  of  the  birds  suffer- 
ing under  a  bad  name  whom  I  have  wished  to 
know  better,  to  see  if  perchance  something  might 
be  done  to  clear  up  his  reputation  a  bit.  I  am 
not  able  to  say  that  he  never  steals  the  eggs  of 
other  birds,  though  during  nearly  a  month  of 
hard  work,  when,  if  ever,  a  few  eggs  would  have 
been  a  welcome  addition  to  his  resources,  and 
sparrows  were  sitting  in  scores  on  the  place,  I 
did  not  see  or  hear  anything  of  the  sort.  I 
have  heard  of  his  destroying  the  nest,  and  pre- 


148  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

sumably  eating  the  eggs  or  young  of  the  English 
sparrow,  but  the  hundred  or  two  who  raised 
their  broods  and  squawked  from  morning  to 
night  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  pine-tree 
household  never  intimated  that  they  were  dis- 
turbed, and  never  showed  hostility  to  their 
neighbors  in  blue.  Moreover,  there  is  undoubt- 
edly something  to  be  said  on  the  jay's  side. 
Even  if  he  does  indulge  in  these  little  eccen- 
tricities, what  is  he  but  a  "collector"?  And 
though  he  does  not  claim  to  be  working  "  in  the 
interest  of  science,"  which  bigger  collectors  in- 
variably do,  he  is  working  in  the  interest  of 
life,  and  life  is  more  than  science.  Even  a  blue 
jay's  life  is  to  him  as  precious  as  ours  to  us, 
and  who  shall  say  that  it  is  not  as  useful  as 
many  of  ours  in  the  great  plan  ? 

The  only  indications  of  hostilities  that  I  ob- 
served in  four  weeks'  close  study,  at  the  most 
aggressive  time  of  bird  life,  nesting-time,  I  shall 
relate  exactly  as  I  saw  them,  and  the  record  will 
be  found  a  very  modest  one.  In  this  case,  cer- 
tainly, the  jay  was  no  more  offensive  than  the 
meekest  bird  that  has  a  nest  to  defend,  and  far 
less  belligerent  than  robins  and  many  others. 
On  one  occasion  a  strange  blue  jay  flew  up  to 
the  nest  in  the  pine.  I  could  not  discover  that 
he  had  any  evil  intention,  except  just  to  see 
what  was  going  on,  but  one  of  the  pair  flew  at 


SELF-WILLED  BLOSSOMS.  149 

him  with  loud  cries,  which  I  heard  for  some 
time  after  the  two  had  disappeared  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  when  our  bird  returned,  he  perched 
on  an  evergreen,  bowing  and  "jouncing"  vio- 
lently, his  manner  plainly  defying  the  enemy  to 
"  try  it  again."  At  another  time  I  observed 
a  savage  fight,  or  what  looked  like  it,  between 
two  jays.  I  happened  not  to  see  the  beginning, 
for  I  was  particularly  struck  that  morning  with 
the  behavior  of  a  bouquet  of  nasturtiums  wrhich 
stood  in  a  vase  on  my  table.  I  never  was  fond 
of  these  flowers,  and  I  noticed  then  for  the  first 
time  how  very  self-willed  and  obstinate  they 
were.  No  matter  how  nicely  they  were  arranged, 
it  would  not  be  an  hour  before  the  whole  bunch 
was  in  disorder,  every  blossom  turning  the  way 
it  preferred,  and  no  two  looking  in  the  same 
direction.  I  thought,  when  I  first  observed  this, 
that  I  must  be  mistaken,  and  I  took  them  out 
and  rearranged  them  as  I  considered  best ;  but 
the  result  was  always  the  same,  and  I  began  to 
feel  that  they  knew  altogether  too  much  for 
their  station  in  the  vegetable  world.  I  was  try- 
ing to  see  if  I  could  discover  any  method  in 
their  movements,  when  I  was  startled  by  a  flash- 
ing vision  of  blue  down  under  the  locusts,  and, 
on  looking  closely,  saw  two  jays  flying  up  like 
quarrelsome  cocks,  —  only  not  together,  but  al- 
ternately, so  that  one  was  in  the  air  all  the 


150  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

time.  They  flew  three  feet  high,  at  least,  all 
their  feathers  on  end,  and  looking  more  like 
shapeless  masses  of  blue  feathers  than  like 
birds.  They  did  not  pause  or  rest  till  one 
seemed  to  get  the  other  down.  I  could  not  see 
from  my  window  well  enough  to  be  positive, 
but  both  were  in  the  grass  together,  and  only 
one  in  sight,  who  stood  perfectly  quiet.  He 
appeared  to  be  holding  the  other  down,  for  occa- 
sionally there  would  be  a  stir  below,  and  re- 
newed vigilance  on  the  part  of  the  one  I  could 
see.  Several  minutes  passed.  I  became  very 
uneasy.  Was  he  killing  him?  I  could  stand 
it  no  longer,  so  I  ran  down.  But  my  coming 
was  a  diversion,  and  both  flew.  When  I  reached 
the  place,  one  had  disappeared,  and  the  other 
was  hopping  around  the  tree  in  great  excite- 
ment, holding  in  his  beak  a  fluffy  white  feather 
about  the  size  of  a  jay's  breast  feather.  I  did 
not  see  the  act,  and  I  cannot  absolutely  declare 
it,  but  I  have  no  doubt  that  he  pulled  that 
feather  from  the  breast  of  his  foe  as  he  held 
him  down ;  how  many  more  with  it  I  could  not 
tell,  for  I  did  not  think  of  looking  until  it  was 
too  late. 

Again  one  day,  somewhat  later,  when  blue  jay 
and  catbird  babies  were  rather  numerous,  I  saw 
a  blue  jay  dive  into  a  lilac  bush  much  frequented 
by  catbirds,  young  and  old  together.  Instantly 


A  MEEK  CAT.  151 

there  arose  a  great  cry  of  distress,  as  though 
some  one  were  hurt,  and  a  rustling  of  leaves, 
proclaiming  that  a  chase,  if  not  a  fight,  was  in 
progress.  I  hurried  downstairs,  and  as  I  ap- 
peared the  jay  flew,  with  two  catbirds  after  him, 
still  crying  in  a  way  I  had  never  heard  before. 
I  expected  nothing  less  than  to  find  a  young  cat- 
bird injured,  but  I  found  nothing.  Whether  the 
blue  jay  really  had  touched  one,  or  it  was  a 
mere  false  alarm  on  the  part  of  the  very  excit- 
able catbirds,  I  could  not  tell.  This  is  the  only 
thing  I  have  seen  in  the  jay  that  might  have 
been  an  interference  with  another  bird's  rights ; 
and  the  catbirds  made  such  a  row  when  I  came 
near  their  babies  that  I  strongly  suspect  the 
only  guilt  of  the  jay  was  alighting  in  the  lilac 
they  had  made  their  headquarters. 

The  little  boy  blue  in  the  apple-tree,  already 
spoken  of,  did  not  get  his  family  off  with  so  little 
adventure  as  his  pine-tree  neighbor.  The  young- 
ling of  this  nest  came  to  the  ground  and  stayed 
there.  The  people  of  the  house  returned  him  to 
the  tree  several  times,  but  every  time  he  fell 
again.  Three  or  four  days  he  wandered  about 
the  neighborhood,  the  parents  rousing  the  coun- 
try with  their  uproar,  and  terrorizing  the  house- 
hold cat  to  such  a  point  of  meekness  that  no 
sooner  did  a  jay  begin  to  squawk  than  he  ran  to 
the  door  and  begged  to  come  in.  At  last,  out  of 


152  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

mercy,  the  family  took  the  little  fellow  into  the 
house,  when  they  saw  that  he  was  not  quite  right 
in  some  way.  One  side  seemed  to  be  nearly 
useless  ;  one  foot  did  not  hold  on ;  one  wing  was 
weak  ;  and  his  breathing  seemed  to  be  one-sided. 
The  family,  seeing  that  he  could  not  take  care  of 
himself,  decided  to  adopt  him.  He  took  kindly 
to  human  care  and  human  food,  and  before  the 
end  of  a  week  had  made  himself  very  much  at 
home.  He  knew  his  food  provider,  and  the 
moment  she  entered  the  room  he  rose  on  his 
weak  little  legs,  fluttered  his  wings  violently, 
and  presented  a  gaping  mouth  with  the  jay  baby 
cry  issuing  therefrom.  Nothing  was  ever  more 
droll  than  this  sight.  He  was  an  intelligent 
youngster,  knew  what  he  wanted,  and  when  he 
had  had  enough.  He  would  eat  bread  up  to  a 
certain  point,  but  after  that  he  demanded  cake 
or  a  berry,  and  his  favorite  food  was  an  egg. 
He  was  exceedingly  curious  about  all  his  sur- 
roundings, examined  everything  with  great  care, 
and  delighted  to  look  out  of  the  window.  He 
selected  his  own  sleeping  -  place,  —  the  upper 
one  of  a  set  of  bookshelves,  —  and  refused  to 
change ;  and  he  watched  the  movements  of  a 
wounded  woodcock  as  he  ran  around  the  floor 
with  as  much  interest  as  did  the  people.  Under 
human  care  he  grew  rapidly  stronger,  learned  to 
fly  more  readily  and  to  use  his  weak  side  ;  and 


RETURNED  TO  HIS  PARENTS.          153 

every  day  he  was  allowed  to  fly  about  in  the  trees 
for  hours.  Once  or  twice,  when  left  out,  he  re- 
turned to  the  house  for  food  and  care ;  but  at 
last  came  a  day  when  he  returned  no  more.  No 
doubt  he  was  taken  in  charge  again  by  his 
parents,  who,  it  was  probable,  had  not  left  the 
neighborhood. 

After  July  came  in,  and  baby  blue  jays  could 
hardly  be  distinguished  from  their  parents,  my 
studies  took  me  away  from  the  place  nearly  all 
day,  and  I  lost  sight  of  the  family  whose 
acquaintance  had  made  my  June  so  delightful. 


.  XIV. 

THE  GREAT  CAROLINIAN. 

ALL  through  June  of  that  summer  I  studied 
the  birds  in  the  spacious  inclosure  around  my 
"  Inn  of  Rest."  But  as  that  month  drew  near 
its  end, 

"  The  happy  birds  that  change  their  sky 
To  build  and  brood,  that  live  their  lives 
From  land  to  land," 

almost  disappeared.  Blue  jay  babies  wandered 
far  off,  where  I  could  hear  them  it  is  true,  but 
where  —  owing  to  the  despair  into  which  my 
appearance  threw  the  whole  jay  family  —  I 
rarely  saw  them  ;  orchard  and  Baltimore  orioles 
had  learned  to  fly,  and  carried  their  ceaseless 
cries  far  beyond  my  hearing ;  catbirds  and  car- 
dinals, doves  and  golden-wings,  all  had  raised 
their  broods  and  betaken  themselves  wherever 
their  fancy  or  food  drew  them,  certainly  without 
the  bounds  of  my  daily  walks.  It  was  evident  that 
I  must  seek  fresh  fields,  or  remove  my  quarters 
to  a  more  northerly  region,  where  the  sun  is  less 
ardent  and  the  birds  less  in  haste  with  their 
nesting. 


THE  ENCHANTING  GLEN.  155 

Accordingly  I  sought  a  companion  who  should 
also  be  a  guide,  and  turned  my  steps  to  the  only 
promising  place  in  the  vicinity,  a  deep  ravine, 
through  which  ran  a  little  stream  that  was  called 
a  river,  and  dignified  with  a  river's  name,  yet 
rippled  and  babbled,  and  conducted  itself  pre- 
cisely like  a  brook. 

The  Glen,  as  it  was  called,  was  a  unique  pos- 
session for  a  common  work-a-day  village  in  the 
midst  of  a  good  farming  country.  Long  ago 
would  its  stately  trees  have  been  destroyed,  its 
streamlet  set  to  turning  wheels,  and  Nature 
forced  to  express  herself  on  those  many  acres,  in 
corn  and  potatoes,  instead  of  her  own  graceful 
and  varied  selection  of  greenery  ;  or,  mayhap,  its 
underbrush  cut  out,  its  slopes  sodded,  its  springs 
buried  in  pipes  and  put  to  use,  and  the  whole 
"improved"  into  dull  insipidity,  —  all  this,  but 
for  the  will  of  one  man  who  held  the  title  to  the 
grounds,  and  rated  it  so  highly,  that,  though 
willing  to  sell,  no  one  could  come  up  to  his 
terms.  Happy  delusion  !  that  blessed  the  whole 
neighborhood  with  an  enchanting  bit  of  nature 
untouched  by  art.  Long  may  he  live  to  keep 
the  deeds  in  his  possession,  and  the  grounds  in 
their  own  wild  beauty. 

The  place  was  surrounded  by  bristling  barbed 
fences,  and  trespassers  were  pointedly  warned 
off,  so  when  one  had  paid  for  the  privilege,  and 


156  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

entered  the  grounds,  he  was  supposed  to  be  safe 
from  intrusion,  except  of  others  who  had  also 
bought  the  right.  The  part  easily  accessible  to 
hotel  and  railroad  station  was  the  scene  of  con- 
stant picnics,  for  which  the  State  is  famous,  but 
that  portion  which  lay  near  my  place  of  study 
was  usually  left  to  the  lonely  kingfisher  —  and 
the  cows.  There  the  shy  wood  dwellers  set  up 
their  households,  and  many  familiar  upland 
birds  came  with  their  fledglings  ;  that  was  the 
land  of  promise  for  bird-lovers,  and  there  one  of 
them  decided  to  study. 

We  began  with  the  most  virtuous  resolves. 
We  would  come  at  five  o'clock  in  the  morning  ; 
we  would  catch  the  birds  at  their  breakfast. 
We  did ;  it  was  a  lovely  morning  after  a  heavy 
rain,  on  which  we  set  out  to  explore  the  ravine 
for  birds.  The  storm  in  passing  had  taken  the 
breeze  with  it,  and  not  a  twig  had  stirred  since. 
Every  leaf  and  grass  blade  was  loaded  with  rain- 
drops. Walking  in  the  grass  was  like  wading 
in  a  stream ;  to  touch  a  bush  was  to  evoke  a 
shower.  But  though  our  shoes  were  wet  through, 
and  our  garments  well  sprinkled,  before  we 
reached  the  barbed  fence,  over  or  under  or 
through  or  around  which  we  must  pass  to  our 
goal,  we  would  not  be  discouraged  ;  we  went  on. 

As  to  the  fence,  let  me,  in  passing,  give  my 
fellow  drapery-bearers  a  hint.  Carry  a  light 


CRUEL  BARBED    WIRE.  157 

shawl,  or  even  a  yard  of  muslin,  to  lay  across 
the  wire  you  can  step  over  (thus  covering  the 
mischievous  barbs),  while  a  good  friend  holds 
up  with  strong  hand  the  next  wire,  and  you  slip 
through.  Thus  you  may  pass  this  cruel  device 
of  man  without  accident. 

Having  circumvented  the  fence,  the  next  task 
was  to  descend  the  steep  sides  of  the  ravine. 
The  difficulty  was,  not  to  get  down,  for  that 
could  be  done  almost  anywhere,  but  to  go 
right  side  up ;  to  land  on  the  feet  and  not  on 
the  head  was  the  test  of  sure  -  f  ootedness  and 
climbing  ability.  We  conquered  that  obstacle, 
cautiously  creeping  down  rocky  steps,  and  over 
slippery  soil,  steadying  ourselves  by  bushes, 
clasping  small  tree-trunks,  scrambling  over  big- 
ones  that  lay  prone  upon  the  ground,  and  thus 
we  safely  reached  the  level  of  the  stream.  Then 
we  passed  along  more  easily,  stooping  under 
low  trees,  crossing  the  beds  of  tiny  brooks,  en- 
circling clumps  of  shrubbery  (and  catching  the 
night's  cobwebs  on  our  faces),  till  we  reached  a 
fallen  tree-trunk  that  seemed  made  for  resting. 
There  we  seated  ourselves,  to  breathe,  and  to 
see  who  lived  in  the  place. 

One  of  the  residents  proclaimed  himself  at 
once, 

"  To  left  and  right 
The  cuckoo  told  his  name  to  all  the  hills," — 


158  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

and  in  a  moment  we  saw  him,  busy  with  his 
breakfast.  His  manner  of  hunting  was  inter- 
esting ;  he  stood  perfectly  still  on  a  branch,  his 
beak  pointed  upward,  but  his  head  so  turned 
that  one  eye  looked  downward.  When  some- 
thing attracted  him,  he  almost  fell  off  his  perch, 
seized  the  morsel  as  he  passed,  alighted  on  a 
lower  branch,  and  at  once  began  looking  around 
again.  There  was  no  frivolity,  no  flitting  about 
like  a  little  bird ;  his  conduct  was  grave  and 
dignified,  and  he  was  absolutely  silent,  except 
when  at  rare  intervals  he  mounted  a  branch  and 
uttered  his  call,  or  song,  if  one  might  so  call  it. 
He  managed  his  long  tail  with  grace  and  ex- 
pression, holding  it  a  little  spread  as  he  moved 
about,  thus  showing  the  white  tips  and  "  cor- 
ners." 

While  we  were  absorbed  in  cuckoo  affairs 
the  sun  peeped  over  the  trees,  and  the  place 
was  transfigured.  Everything,  as  I  said,  was 
charged  with  water,  and  looking  against  the 
sun,  some  drops  hanging  from  the  tip  of  a  leaf 
glowed  red  as  rubies,  others  shone  out  blue  as 
sapphires,  while  here  and  there  one  scintillated 
with  many  colors  like  a  diamond,  now  flashing 
red,  and  now  yellow  or  blue. 

"  The  humblest  weed 
Wore  its  own  coronal,  and  gayly  bold 
Waved  jeweled  sceptre." 


A  BOOFED-OVER  NEST.  159 

In  that  spot  we  sat  an  hour,  and  saw  many 
birds,  with  whom  it  was  evidently  a  favorite 
hunting-ground.  But  no  one  seemed  to  live 
there  ;  every  one  appeared  to  be  passing  through; 
and  realizing  as  we  did,  that  it  was  late  in  the 
season,  our  search  for  nests  in  use  was  rather 
half-hearted  anyway.  As  our  breakfast -time 
drew  near  we  decided  to  go  home,  having  found 
nothing  we  cared  to  study.  Just  as  we  were 
taking  leave  of  the  spot  I  heard,  nearly  at  my 
back,  a  gentle  scolding  cry,  and  glancing 
around,  my  eyes  fell  upon  two  small  birds  run- 
ning down  the  trunk  of  a  walnut  sapling.  A 
few  inches  above  the  ground  one  of  the  pair 
disappeared,  and  the  other,  still  scolding,  flew 
away.  I  hastened  to  the  spot  —  and  there  I 
found  my  great  Carolinian. 

The  nest  was  made  in  a  natural  cavity  in  the 
side  of  a  stump  six  or  eight  inches  in  diameter 
and  a  foot  high.  It  seemed  to  be  of  moss,  com- 
pletely roofed  over,  and  stooping  nearer  its  level 
I  saw  the  bird,  looking  flattened  as  if  she  had 
been  crushed,  but  returning  my  gaze,  bravely 
resolved  to  live  or  die  with  her  brood.  I  noted 
her  color,  and  the  peculiar  irregular  line  over 
her  eye,  and  then  I  left  her,  though  I  did  not 
know  who  she  was.  Nothing  would  have  been 
easier  than  to  put  my  hand  over  her  door  and 
catch  her,  but  nothing  would  have  induced  me 


160  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

to  do  so  —  if  I  never  knew  her  name.  Time 
enough  for  formal  introductions  later  in  our 
acquaintance,  I  thought,  and  if  it  happened 
that  we  never  met  again,  what  did  I  care  how 
she  was  named  in  the  books  ? 

I  did  not  at  first  even  suspect  her  identity, 
for  who  would  expect  to  find  the  great  Carolina 
wren  a  personage  of  less  than  six  inches !  even 
though  he  were  somewhat  familiar  with  the 
vagaries  of  name-givers,  who  call  one  bird  after 
the  cat,  whom  he  in  no  way  resembles,  and  an- 
other after  the  bull,  to  whom  the  likeness  is, 
if  possible,  still  less.  What  was  certain  was 
that  the  nest  belonged  to  wrens,  and  was  admir- 
ably placed  for  study ;  and  what  I  instantly 
resolved  was  to  improve  my  acquaintance  with 
the  owners  thereof. 

The  little  opening  in  the  woods,  which  be- 
came the  Wren's  Court,  when  their  rank  was 
discovered,  was  a  most  attractive  place,  shaded 
enough  to  be  pleasant,  while  yet  leaving  a 
goodly  stretch  of  blue  sky  in  sight,  bounded  on 
one  side  by  immense  forest  trees  —  walnut,  but- 
ternut, oak,  and  others  —  which  looked  as  if 
they  had  stood  there  for  generations;  on  the 
other  side,  the  babbling  stream,  up  and  down 
which  the  kingfisher  flew  and  clattered  all  day. 
One  way  out  led  to  the  thicket  where  a  wood- 
thrush  was  sitting  in  a  low  tree,  and  the  other, 


AN  IDEAL  NOOK.  161 

by  the  Path  Difficult,  up  to  the  world  above. 
The  seat,  across  the  court  from  the  nest,  had 
plainly  been  arranged  by  some  kind  fate  on 
purpose  for  us.  It  was  the  trunk  of  a  tree, 
which  in  falling  failed  to  quite  reach  the 
ground,  and  so  had  bleached  and  dried,  and  it 
was  shaded  and  screened  from  observation  by 
vigorous  saplings  which  had  sprung  up  about 
it.  The  whole  was  indeed  an  ideal  nook,  well 
worthy  to  be  named  after  its  distinguished  resi- 
dents. 

Thoreau  was  right  in  his  assertion  that  one 
may  see  all  the  birds  of  a  neighborhood  by  sim- 
ply waiting  patiently  in  one  place,  and  into  that 
charming  spot  came  "  sooner  or  later "  every 
bird  I  had  seen  in  my  wanderings  up  and  down 
the  ravine.  There  sang  the  scarlet  tanager 
every  morning  through  July,  gleaming  among 
the  leaves  of  the  tallest  trees,  his  olive-clad 
spouse  nowhere  to  be  seen,  presumably  occupied 
with  domestic  affairs.  There  the  Acadian  fly- 
catcher pursued  his  calling,  fluttering  his  wings 
and  uttering  a  sweet  little  murmur  when  he 
alighted.  Into  that  retired  corner  came  the 
cries  of  flicker  and  blue  jay  from  the  high 
ground  beyond.  On  the  edge  sang  the  indigo- 
bird  and  the  wood-pewee,  and  cardinal  and 
wood-thrush  song  formed  the  chorus  to  all  the 
varied  notes  that  we  heard. 


162  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

Upon  our  entrance  the  next  morning,  my 
first  glance  at  the  nest  was  one  of  dismay  —  the 
material  seemed  to  be  pulled  out  a  little.  Had 
it  been  robbed !  had  some  vagabond  squirrel 
thrust  lawless  paws  into  the  little  home !  I 
looked  closely;  no,  there  sat,  or  rather  there 
lay  the  little  mother.  But  she  did  not  relish 
this  second  call.  She  flew,  fluttering  and  trail- 
ing on  the  ground,  as  if  hurt,  hoping,  of  course, 
to  attract  us  away  from  her  nest.  Seeing  that 
of  no  avail,  however,  which  she  quickly  did, 
she  retreated  to  a  low  branch,  threw  back  her 
head,  and  uttered  a  soft  "  chur-r-r,"  again  and 
again  repeated,  doubtless  to  her  mate.  But 
that  personage  did  not  make  his  appearance, 
and  we  examined  the  nest.  There  were  five 
eggs,  white,  very  thickly  and  evenly  specked 
with  fine  dots  of  dark  color.  An  end  of  one 
that  stuck  up  was  plain  white,  perhaps  the 
others  were  the  same  ;  we  did  not  inquire  too 
closely,  for  what  did  we  care  for  eggs,  except  as 
the  cradles  of  the  future  birds  ? 

Very  soon  we  retired  to  our  seat  across  the 
court  and  became  quiet,  to  wait  for  what  might 
come.  Suddenly,  with  almost  startling  effect, 

"  A  bird  broke  forth  and  sung 
And  trilled  and  quavered  and  shook  his  throat." 

It  was  a  new  voice  to  us,  loud  and  clear,  and 
the  song,  consisting  of  three   clauses,  sounded 


SHE  BAN  UP  THE  TRUNK.  163 

like  "  Whit-e-ar !  Whit-e-ar  !  Whit-e-ar !"  then 
a  pause,  and  the  same  repeated,  and  so  on  in- 
definitely. It  came  nearer  and  still  nearer, 
and  in  a  moment  we  saw  the  bird,  a  tiny  crea- 
ture, red-brown  on  the  back,  light  below  —  the 
image  of  the  little  sitter  in  the  stump,  as  we 
remarked  with  delight ;  we  hoped  he  was  her 
mate.  He  did  not  seem  inclined  to  go  to  the 
nest,  but  stayed  on  a  twig  of  a  dead  branch 
which  hung  from  a  large  tree  near  by. 

While  the  stranger  was  pouring  out  his  rhap- 
sody, head  thrown  back,  tail  hanging  straight 
down,  and  wings  slightly  drooped,  I  noticed  a 
movement  by  the  nest,  and  fixed  my  eyes  upon 
that.  The  little  dame  had  stolen  out  of  her 
place,  and  now  began  the  ascent  of  the  sapling 
which  started  out  one  side  of  her  small  stump. 
Up  the  trunk  she  went  with  perfect  ease,  run- 
ning a  few  steps,  and  then  pausing  a  moment 
before  she  took  the  next  half-dozen.  She  did 
not  go  bobbing  up  like  a  woodpecker,  nor  did 
she  steady  herself  with  her  tail,  like  that  fre- 
quenter of  tree-trunks ;  she  simply  ran  up  that 
almost  perpendicular  stick  as  a  fly  runs  up  the 
wall.  Meanwhile  her  mate,  if  that  he  were, 
kept  up  his  ringing  song,  till  she  reached  the 
top  of  the  sapling,  perhaps  seven  or  eight  feet 
high,  and  flew  over  near  him.  In  an  instant 
the  song  ceased,  and  the  next  moment  two  small 


164  IZV  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

birds  flew  over  our  heads,  and  we  heard  chat- 
ting and  churring,  and  then  silence. 

Without  this  hint  from  the  wren  we  should 
rarely  have  seen  her  leave  the  nest ;  we  should 
naturally  have  watched  for  wings,  and  none 
might  come  or  go,  while  she  was  using  her  feet 
instead.  She  returned  in  the  same  way ;  flying 
to  the  top,  or  part  way  up  her  sapling,  she  ran 
down  to  her  nest  as  glibly  as  she  had  run  up. 
The  walnut-trunk  was  the  ladder  which  led  to 
the  outside  world.  This  pretty  little  scene  was 
many  times  repeated,  in  the  days  that  we  spent 
before  the  castle  of  our  Carolinians ;  the  male 
announcing  himself  afar  with  songs,  and  ap- 
proaching gradually,  while  his  mate  listened  to 
the  notes  that  had  wooed  her,  and  now  again 
coaxed  her  away  from  her  sitting,  for  a  short 
outing  with  him.  Sometimes,  though  rarely, 
she  came  out  without  this  inducement,  but  dur- 
ing her  sitting  days  she  usually  went  only  upon 
his  invitation. 

Before  many  days  we  had  fully  identified  the 
pair.  The  song  had  puzzled  me  at  first,  for 
though  extraordinary  in  volume  for  a  bird  of 
his  size,  and  possessing  that  indefinable  wren 
quality,  that  abandon  and  unexpectedness,  as  if 
it  were  that  instant  inspired,  it  had  yet  few 
notes,  and  I  missed  the  exquisite  tremolo  that 
makes  the  song  of  the  winter-wren  so  bewitch- 


HIS  TWO  SONGS.  165 

ing.  But  I  "  studied  him  up,"  and  learned  that 
his  finest  and  most  characteristic  song  is  uttered 
in  the  spring  only.  After  nesting  has  begun, 
he  gives  merely  these  musical  calls,  which, 
though  delightful,  do  not  compare  —  say  the 
books  —  with  his  ante-nuptial  performance.  I 
was  too  late  for  that,  but  I  was  glad  and  thank- 
ful for  these. 

Moreover,  the  wren  varied  his  songs  as  the 
days  went  on.  There  were  from  two  to  five 
notes  in  a  clause,  never  more,  and  commonly 
but  three.  This  clause  he  repeated  again  and 
again  during  the  whole  of  one  visit;  but  the 
next  time  he  came  he  had  a  new  one,  which 
likewise  he  kept  to  while  he  stayed.  Again, 
when,  some  days  later,  he  took  part  in  feeding, 
he  frequently  changed  the  song  as  he  left  the 
nest.  Struck  by  the  variety  he  gave  to  his  few 
notes,  after  some  days  I  began  to  take  them 
down  in  syllables  as  they  expressed  themselves 
to  my  ear,  for  they  were  sharp  and  distinct.  Of 
course,  these  syllables  resemble  his  sound  about 
as  a  dried  flower  resembles  the  living  blossom, 
but  they  serve  the  same  purpose,  to  reproduce 
them  in  memory.  In  that  way  I  recorded  in 
three  days  eighteen  different  arrangements  of 
his  notes.  Doubtless  there  were  many  more ; 
indeed,  he  seemed  to  delight  in  inventing  new 
combinations,  and  his  taste  evidently  agreed 


166  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

with  mine,  for  when  he  succeeded  in  evolving  a 
particularly  charming  one,  he  did  not  easily 
change  it.  One  that  specially  pleased  me  I  put 
down  as  "  Shame-ber-ee ! "  and  this  was  his 
favorite,  too,  for  after  the  day  he  began  it,  he 
sang  it  oftener  than  any  other.  It  had  a  pecu- 
liarly joyous  ring,  the  second  note  being  a  third 
below  the  first,  and  the  third  fully  an  octave 
higher  than  the  second.  I  believe  he  had  just 
then  struck  upon  it,  his  enjoyment  of  it  was  so 
plain  to  see. 

The  Wren's  Court  was  a  distracting  spot  to 
study  one  pair  of  small  birds.  So  many  others 
came  about,  and  always,  it  seemed,  in  some 
crisis  in  wren  affairs,  when  I  dared  not  take  my 
eyes  from  my  glass,  lest  I  lose  the  sequence  of 
events.  There  appeared  sometimes  to  be  a 
thousand  whispering,  squealing,  and  smacking 
titmice  in  the  trees  over  my  head,  and  a  whole 
regiment  of  great-crested  flycatchers  and  others 
on  one  side.  I  was  glad  I  was  familiar  with  all 
the  flicker  noises,  or  I  should  have  been  driven 
wild  at  these  moments,  so  many,  so  various,  and 
so  peculiar  were  their  utterances ;  likewise 
thankful  that  I  knew  the  row  made  by  the  jay 
on  the  bank  above  was  not  a  sign  of  dire  dis- 
tress, but  simply  the  tragic  manner  of  the 
family. 

Again,  when  the  wind  blew,  it  was  impossible 


GBEAT-CBESTS  AT  HOME.  167 

to  see  the  little  folk  that  chattered  and  whis- 
pered and  "  dee-dee'd  "  overhead,  and  though 
we  were  absolutely  certain  a  party  of  tufted  tits 
and  chickadees  and  black  and  white  creepers, 
who  always  seemed  to  travel  in  company,  were 
frolicking  about,  we  could  not  distinguish  them 
from  the  dancing  and  fluttering  leaves. 

When  the  day  was  favorable,  and  the  wren 
had  gone  his  way,  foraging  in  silence  over  the 
low  ground  at  our  back,  and  an  old  stump  that 
stood  there,  and  the  sitter  had  settled  herself  in 
her  nest  for  another  half  hour,  we  could  look 
about  at  whoever  happened  to  be  there.  Thus 
I  made  further  acquaintance  with  the  great- 
crested  flycatcher.  Hitherto  I  had  known  these 
birds  only  as  they  travel  through  a  neighbor- 
hood not  their  own,  appearing  on  the  tops  of 
trees,  and  crying  out  in  martial  tones  for  the 
inhabitants  to  bring  on  their  fighters,  a  chal- 
lenge to  all  whom  it  may  concern.  It  was  a 
revelation,  then,  to  see  them  quietly  at  home  like 
other  birds,  setting  up  claims  to  a  tree,  driving 
strangers  away  from  it,  and  spending  their  time 
about  its  foot,  seeking  food  near  the  ground, 
and  indulging  in  frolics  or  fights,  whichever 
they  might  be,  with  squealing  cries  and  a  rush- 
ing flight  around  their  tree.  In  the  latter  part 
of  our  study,  the  great-crest  babies  were  out, 
noisy  little  fellows,  who  insisted  on  being  fed  as 


168  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

peremptorily  as  their  elders  demand  their  rights 
and  privileges. 

To  make  the  place  still  more  maddening  for 
study,  the  birds  seemed  to  sweep  through  the 
woods  in  waves.  For  a  long  time  not  a  peep 
would  be  heard,  not  a  feather  would  stir;  then 
all  at  once 

"  The  air  would  throb  with  wings," 

and  birds  would  pour  in  from  all  sides,  half  a 
dozen  at  a  time,  making  us  want  to  look  six 
ways  at  once,  and  rendering  it  impossible  to 
confine  ourselves  to  one.  Then,  after  half  an 
hour  of  this  superabundance,  one  by  one  would 
slip  out,  and  by  the  time  we  began  to  realize  it, 
we  were  alone  again. 

We  had  watched  the  wren  for  nine  days  when 
there  came  an  interruption.  It  happened  thus : 
A  little  farther  up  the  glen  we  had  another 
study,  a  wood-thrush  nest  in  a  low  tree,  and 
every  day,  either  coming  or  going,  we  were  ac- 
customed to  spend  an  hour  watching  that.  Our 
place  of  observation  was  a  hidden  nook  in  a  pile 
of  rocks,  where  we  were  entirely  concealed  by 
thick  trees,  through  which,  by  a  judicious  thin- 
ning out  of  twigs  and  leaves,  we  had  made  peep- 
holes, for  the  thrush  mamma  would  not  tolerate 
us  in  her  sight.  To  reach  our  seats  and  not 
alarm  the  suspicious  little  dame,  we  always 
entered  from  the  back,  slowly  and  cautiously 


FRIGHTENED  AWAY.  169 

climbed  the  rocks  by  a  rude  path  which  already 
existed,  and  slipped  in  under  cover  of  our  leafy 
screen. 

On  the  morning  of  the  tenth  day  we  entered 
the  ravine  from  the  upper  end,  and  made  our 
first  call  upon  the  thrush.  We  had  been  seated 
in  silence  for  ten  or  fifteen  minutes,  and  I  was 
beginning  to  get  uneasy  because  no  bird  came 
to  the  nest,  when  a  diversion  occurred  that 
drove  thrush  affairs  out  of  our  minds.  We 
heard  footsteps !  It  must  be  remembered  that 
we  were  alone  in  this  solitary  place,  far  from  a 
house,  and  naturally  we  listened  eagerly.  The 
steps  drew  nearer,  and  then  we  heard  loud 
breathing.  We  exchanged  glances  of  relief  — 
it  was  a  cow !  But  while  we  were  congratu- 
lating ourselves  began  a  crashing  of  branches,  a 
fiercer  breathing,  a  rush,  and  a  low  bellow ! 

This  was  no  meek  cow  !  we  turned  pale,  —  at 
any  rate  we  felt  pale,  —  but  we  tried  to  encour- 
age each  other  by  suggesting  in  hurried  whis- 
pers that  he  surely  would  not  see  us.  Alas ! 
the  next  instant  he  broke  through  the  bushes, 
and  to  our  horror  started  at  once  up  our  path 
to  the  rocks ;  in  a  moment  he  would  be  upon 
us !  We  rose  hastily,  prepared  to  sell  our  lives 
dearly,  when,  as  suddenly  as  he  had  come,  he 
turned  and  rushed  back.  Whether  the  sight 
of  us  was  too  much  for  his  philosophy,  or 


170  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

whether  he  had  gone  for  reinforcements,  we 
did  not  inquire.  We  instantly  lost  our  interest 
in  birds  and  birds'  nests ;  we  gathered  up  our 
belongings  and  fled,  not  stopping  to  breathe  till 
we  had  put  the  barbiest  of  barbed  wire  fences 
between  us  and  the  foe. 

Once  outside,  however,  we  paused  to  con- 
sider :  To  give  up  our  study  was  not  to  be 
thought  of ;  to  go  every  day  in  fear  and  dread 
was  equally  intolerable.  I  wrote  to  the  author- 
ities of  whom  I  had  purchased  the  right  to  enter 
the  place.  They  promptly  denied  the  existence 
of  any  such  animal  on  the  premises.  I  replied 
to  the  effect  that  "  seeing  is  believing,"  but  they 
reaffirmed  their  former  statement,  assuring  me 
that  there  were  none  but  harmless  cows  in  the 
glen.  I  did  not  want  to  waste  time  in  an  un- 
profitable correspondence,  and  I  did  want  to  see 
the  wrens,  and  at  last  a  bright  thought  came,  — 
I  would  hire  an  escort,  a  country  boy  used  to 
cattle,  and  warranted  not  afraid  of  them.  I 
inquired  into  the  question  of  day's  wages,  I 
looked  about  among  the  college  students  who 
were  working  their  way  to  an  education,  and  I 
found  an  ideal  protector,  —  an  intelligent  and 
very  agreeable  young  man,  brought  up  on  a 
farm,  and  just  graduated,  who  was  studying  up 
mathematics  preparatory  to  school-teaching  in 
the  fall.  The  bargain  was  soon  made,  and  the 


A   PROTECTOR   SECURED.  171 

next  morning  we  started  again  for  the  glen,  our 
guardian  armed  with  his  geometry  and  a  big 
club.  Three  days,  however,  had  been  occupied 
in  perfecting  this  arrangement,  and  I  ap- 
proached the  spot  with  anxiety;  indeed,  I  am 
always  concerned  till  I  see  the  whole  family  I 
am  watching,  after  only  a  night's  interval,  and 
know  they  have  survived  the  many  perils  which 
constantly  threaten  bird-life,  both  night  and  day. 


XV. 

THE  WRENLINGS   APPEAR. 

THE  moment  we  entered  the  court  I  saw  there 
was  news.  My  eyes  being  attracted  by  a  little 
commotion  on  a  dogwood  -  tree,  I  saw  a  saucy 
tufted  titmouse  chasing  with  cries  one  of  the 
wrens  who  had  food  in  its  beak.  With  most 
birds  this  proclaims  the  arrival  of  the  young 
family  as  plainly  as  if  a  banner  had  been  hung 
on  the  castle  walls.  Whether  the  tit  was  after 
the  food,  or  trying  to  drive  the  wren  off  his  own 
ground,  we  could  not  tell,  nor  did  we  much  care ; 
the  important  fact  was  that  babies  were  out  in 
the  walnut-tree  cottage.  The  food  bearer  went 
to  the  nest,  and  in  a  moment  came  up  the  ladder, 
so  joyous  and  full  of  song  that  he  could  not 
wait  to  get  off  his  own  tree,  but  burst  into  a 
triumphant  ringing  "Whit-e-ar!"  that  must 
have  told  his  news  to  all  the  world  —  who  had 
ears  to  hear. 

The  mother  did  not  at  once  give  up  her 
brooding,  nor  did  I  wonder  when  I  peeped  into 
the  nest  while  she  was  off  with  her  spouse,  and 
saw  what  appeared  to  be  five  big  mouths  with  a 


JO Y  OF  THE  PARENTS.  173 

small  bag  of  skin  attached  to  each.  Nothing 
else  could  be  seen.  She  sat  an  hour  at  a  time, 
and  then  her  mate  would  come  and  call  her  off 
for  a  rest  and  a  change,  while  he  skipped  down 
the  ladder  and  fed  the  bairns.  His  way  in  this 
matter,  as  in  everything  else,  was  characteristic. 
He  never  went  to  the  nest  till  he  had  called  her 
off  by  his  song.  It  was  not  till  several  days 
later,  when  she  had  given  up  brooding,  that  I 
ever  saw  the  pair  meet  at  the  nest,  and  then  it 
seemed  to  be  accidental,  and  one  of  them  always 
left  immediately. 

During  the  first  few  days  the  young  parents 
came  and  went  as  of  old,  by  way  of  the  ladder, 
and  I  learned  to  know  them  apart  by  their  way 
of  mounting  that  airy  flight  of  steps.  He  was 
more  pert  in  manner,  held  his  head  and  tail  more 
jauntily,  though  he  rarely  pointed  his  tail  to  the 
sky,  as  do  some  of  the  wren  family.  He  went 
lightly  up  in  a  dancing  style  which  she  entirely 
lacked,  sometimes  jumping  to  a  small  shoot  that 
grew  up  quite  near  the  walnut,  and  running  up 
that  as  easily  as  he  did  the  tree.  Her  ascent 
was  of  a  business  character ;  she  was  on  duty, 
head  and  tail  level  with  her  body,  no  airs  what- 
ever. He  was  so  full  of  happiness  in  these  early 
days  that  frequently  he  coidd  not  take  time  to  go 
to  the  top,  but,  having  reached  a  height  of  two 
or  three  feet,  he  flew,  and  at  once  burst  into 


174  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

rapturous  song,  even  sang  while  flying  over  to 
the  next  tree.  From  this  time  they  almost 
abandoned  the  ladder  they  had  been  so  fond  of, 
and  flew  directly  to  the  nest  from  the  ground, 
where  they  got  all  their  food.  This  change  was 
not  because  they  were  hard  worked ;  I  never  saw 
birds  who  took  family  cares  more  easily.  At  the 
expiration  of  three  days  the  mother  brooded  no 
more,  and  indeed  it  would  have  troubled  her  to 
find  a  place  for  herself,  the  nest  was  so  full. 

Every  morning  on  entering  the  court  I  called 
at  the  nest,  and  always  found  five  yellow  beaks 
turned  to  the  front.  On  the  third  day  the  heads 
were  covered  with  slate-colored  down;  on  the 
fourth,  wing-feathers  began  to  show  among  the 
heads,  but  the  body  was  still  perfectly  bare  ;  on 
the  fifth,  the  eyes  opened  on  the  green  world 
about  them,  —  they  were  then  certainly  five  days 
old,  and  may  have  been  seven ;  owing  to  our 
unfortunate  absence  at  the  critical  time  I  cannot 
be  sure.  On  the  seventh  day  the  red-brown  of 
the  back  began  to  show,  and  the  white  of  the 
breast  made  itself  visible,  while  the  heads  began 
to  look  feathery  instead  of  fuzzy.  Even  then, 
however,  they  took  no  notice  when  I  put  my 
finger  on  them. 

Long  before  this  time  the  manner  of  the 
parents  had  changed.  In  the  first  place,  they 
were  more  busy ;  foraging  industriously  on  the 


EXCITEMENT  IN  THE  FAMILY.         175 

ground,  coming  within  ten  or  fifteen  feet  of  us, 
without  appearing  to  see  us  at  all.  In  fact  they 
had,  after  the  first  day,  paid  no  attention  to  us, 
for  we  never  had  disturbed  them,  never  went  to 
the  nest  till  sure  that  both  were  away,  and  kept 
still  and  quiet  in  our  somewhat  distant  seat. 

About  this  time  they  began  to  show  more 
anxiety  in  their  manner.  The  first  exhibition 
was  on  the  fourth  day  since  we  knew  the  young 
were  hatched  (and  let  me  say  that  I  believe 
they  were  just  out  of  the  shell  the  morning  that 
we  found  the  father  feeding).  On  this  fourth 
day  the  singer  perched  near  the  nest-tree,  three 
or  four  feet  from  the  ground,  and  began  a  very 
loud  wren  "  dear-r-r-r !  dear-r-r-r  !  dear-r-r-r !  " 
constantly  repeated.  He  jerked  himself  about 
with  great  apparent  excitement,  looking  always 
on  the  ground  as  if  he  saw  an  enemy  there.  We 
thought  it  might  be  a  cat  we  had  seen  prowling 
about,  but  on  examination  no  cat  was  there. 
Gradually  his  tone  grew  lower  and  lower,  and 
he  calmed  down  so  far  as  a  wren  can  calm, 
though  he  did  not  cease  his  cries.  I  did  not 
know  he  could  be  still  so  long,  but  I  learned 
more  about  wren  possibilities  in  that  line  some- 
what later. 

During  this  performance  his  mate  came  with 
food  in  her  beak,  and  evidently  saw  nothing 
alarming,  for  she  went  to  the  nest  with  it.  Still 


176  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

he  stood  gazing  on  the  ground.  Sometimes  he 
flew  down  and  returned  at  once,  then  began 
moving  off,  a  little  at  a  time,  still  crying,  ex- 
actly as  though  he  were  following  some  one  who 
went  slowly.  The  call,  when  low,  was  very 
sweet  and  tender;  very  mournful  too,  and  we 
got  much  wrought  up  over  it,  wishing  —  as  bird 
students  so  often  do  —  that  we  could  do  some- 
thing to  help.  He  was  roused  at  last  by  the 
intrusion  of  a  bird  into  his  domain,  and  his  dis- 
comfiture of  this  foe  seemed  to  dispel  his  un- 
happy state  of  mind,  for  he  at  once  broke  out  in 
joyous  song,  to  our  great  relief.  That  was  not 
the  last  exhibition  of  the  wren's  idiosyncrasy; 
he  repeated  it  day  after  day,  and  finally  he  went 
so  far  as  to  interpolate  low  "  dear-r-r's  "  into  his 
sweetest  songs.  Perhaps  that  was  his  conception 
of  his  duty  as  protector  to  the  family  ;  if  so,  he 
was  certainly  faithful  in  doing  it.  It  was  ludi- 
crously like  the  attitude  of  some  people  under 
similar  circumstances. 

While  the  young  father  was  manifesting  his 
anxiety  in  this  way,  the  mother  showed  hers  in 
another ;  she  took  to  watching,  hardly  leaving 
the  place  at  all.  When  she  had  her  babies  well 
fed  for  the  moment,  she  went  up  the  trunk  a 
little,  in  a  loitering  way  that  I  had  never  seen 
her  indulge  in  before,  —  and  a  loitering  wren  is 
a  curiosity.  It  was  plain  that  she  simply  wished 


A   CEREMONIOUS  APPROACH.          177 

to  pass  away  the  time.  She  stepped  from  the 
trunk  upon  a  twig  on  one  side,  stayed  a  little 
while,  then  passed  to  one  on  the  other  side, 
lingered  a  few  moments,  and  so  she  went  on. 
When  she  arrived  at  the  height  of  two  feet  she 
perched  on  a  small  dead  twig,  and  remained  a 
long  time  —  certainly  twenty  minutes  —  abso- 
lutely motionless.  It  was  hard  to  see  her,  and 
if  I  had  not  watched  her  progress  from  the  first, 
I  should  not  have  suspected  her  presence.  A 
leaf  would  hide  her,  even  the  crossing  of  two 
twigs  was  ample  screen,  and  when  she  was  still 
it  was  hopeless  to  look  for  her.  The  only  way 
we  were  able  to  keep  track  of  either  of  the  pair 
was  by  their  incessant  motions. 

The  Great  Carolinian  had  a  peculiar  custom 
which  showed  that  his  coming  with  song  was  a 
ceremony  he  would  not  dispense  with.  He  would 
often  start  off  singing,  gradually  withdraw  till 
fifty  or  seventy-five  feet  away,  singing  at  every 
pause,  and  then,  if  one  watched  him  closely,  he 
might  see  him  stop,  drop  to  the  ground,  and  hunt 
about  in  silence.  When  he  was  ready  to  come 
again,  he  would  fly  quietly  a  little  way  off,  and 
then  begin  his  singing  and  approaching,  as  if  he 
had  been  a  mile  away.  He  never  sang  when  on 
the  ground  after  food,  but  so  soon  as  he  finished 
eating,  he  flew  to  a  perch  at  least  two  feet  high, 
generally  between  six  and  ten,  and  sometimes  as 
high  as  twenty  feet,  and  sang. 


178  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

After  a  day  or  two  of  the  wren's  singular  un- 
easiness, we  discovered  at  least  one  object  of  his 
concern.  It  was  a  chipmunk,  whom  we  had  often 
noticed  perched  on  the  highest  point  of  the  lit- 
tle ledge  of  rocks  near  the  nest'.  He  seemed  to 
be  attending  strictly  to  his  own  affairs,  but  after 
a  good  deal  of  "  dear-r-r "  ing,  the  wren  flew 
furiously  at  him,  almost,  if  not  quite,  hitting 
him,  and  doing  it  again  and  again.  The  little 
beast  did  not  relish  this  treatment  and  ran  off, 
the  bird  following  and  repeating  the  assault. 
This  was  undoubtedly  the  foe  that  he  had  been 
troubled  about  all  the  time. 

On  the  tenth  or  eleventh  day  of  their  lives 
(as  I  believe)  I  examined  the  babies  in  the 
nest  a  little  more  closely  than  before.  I  even 
touched  them  with  my  finger  on  head  and  beak. 
They  looked  sleepily  at  me,  but  did  not  resent 
it.  If  the  mother  were  somewhat  bigger,  I 
should  suspect  her  of  giving  them  "  soothing 
syrup,"  for  they  had  exactly  the  appearance  of 
being  drugged.  They  were  not  overfed ;  I  never 
saw  youngsters  so  much  let  alone.  The  parents 
had  nothing  like  the  work  of  the  robin,  oriole, 
or  blue  jay.  They  came  two  or  three  times, 
and  then  left  for  half  an  hour  or  more,  yet  the 
younglings  were  never  impatient  for  food. 

The  morning  that  the  young  wrens  had 
reached  the  age  of  twelve  days  (that  we  knew 


A  NESTFUL  OF  WOODEN  BABIES.      179 

of)  was  the  22d  of  July,  and  the  weather  was 
intensely  warm.  On  the  21st  we  had  watched  all 
day  to  see  them  go,  sure  that  they  were  per- 
fectly well  able.  Obviously  it  is  the  policy  of 
this  family  to  prepare  for  a  life  of  extraordi- 
nary activity  by  an  infancy  of  unusual  stillness. 
Never  were  youngsters  so  perfectly  indifferent 
to  all  the  world.  In  storm  or  sunshine,  in  day- 
light or  darkness,  they  lay  there  motionless, 
caring  only  for  food,  and  even  that  showed 
itself  only  by  the  fact  that  all  mouths  were 
toward  the  front.  The  under  one  of  the  pile 
seemed  entirely  contented  to  be  at  the  bottom, 
and  the  top  ones  not  to  exult  in  their  posi- 
tion ;  in  fact,  so  far  as  any  show  of  interest 
in  life  was  concerned,  they  might  have  been 
a  nestful  of  wooden  babies. 

On  this  morning,  as  we  dragged  ourselves 
wearily  over  the  hot  road  to  the  ravine,  we 
resolved  that  no  handful  of  wrenlings  should 
force  us  over  that  road  again.  Go  off  this  day 
they  should,  if  —  as  my  comrade  remarked  — • 
"  we  had  to  raise  them  by  hand."  My  first 
call  was  at  the  nest,  indifferent  whether  parents 
were  there  or  not,  for  I  had  become  desperate. 
There  they  lay,  lazily  blinking  at  me,  and  fill- 
ing the  nest  overfull.  The  singer  came  rushing 
down  a  branch,  bristled  up,  blustering,  and 
calling  "  Dear-r-r-r !  "  at  me,  and  I  hoped  he 


180  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

would  be  induced  to  hurry  up  his  very  leisurely 
brood. 

We  took  our  usual  seats  and  waited.  Both 
parents  remained  near  the  homestead,  and  little 
singing  was  indulged  in ;  this  morning  there 
was  serious  business  on  hand,  as  any  one  could 
see.  We  were  desirous  of  seeing  the  first  sign 
of  movement,  so  we '  resolved  to  cut  away  the 
last  few  leaves  that  hid  the  entrance  to  the  nest. 
We  had  not  done  it  before,  partly  not  to  annoy 
the  birds,  and  partly  not  to  have  them  too  easily 
discovered  by  prowlers. 

Miss  R- went  to  the  stump,  and  cut  away 

half  a  dozen  leaves  and  twigs  directly  before 
their  door.  The  young  ones  looked  at  her,  but 
did  not  move.  Then,  as  I  had  asked  her  to  do, 
she  pointed  a  parasol  directly  at  the  spot,  so 
that  I,  in  my  distant  seat,  might  locate  the  nest 
exactly.  This  seemed  to  be  the  last  straw  that 
the  birdlings  could  endure ;  two  of  them  flew 
off.  One  went  five  or  six  feet  away,  the  other 
to  the  ground  close  by.  Then  she  came  away, 
and  we  waited  again.  In  a  moment  two  more 
ventured  out  and  alighted  on  twigs  near  the 
nest.  Then  the  mother  came  home,  and  acted 
as  surprised  as  though  she  had  never  expected 
to  have  them  depart.  She  went  from  a  twig  be- 
side the  tree  to  the  nest,  and  back,  about  a  dozen 
times,  as  if  she  really  could  not  believe  her  eyes. 


HOME-LOVING   WBENLINGS.  181 

Anxious  to  see  everything  that  went  on,  we 
moved  our  seats  nearer,  but  this  so  disconcerted 
the  pair  that  we  did  not  stay  long.  It  was  long 
enough  to  hear  the  wren  baby-cry,  a  low  insect- 
like  noise,  and  to  see  something  that  surprised 
and  no  less  disgusted  me,  namely,  every  one  of 
those  babies  hurry  back  to  the  tree,  climb  the 
trunk,  and  scramble  back  into  the  nest !  —  the 
whole  exit  to  be  begun  again !  It  could  not  be 
their  dislike  of  the  "  cold,  cold  world,"  for  a 
cold  world  would  be  a  luxury  that  morning. 

Of  any  one  who  would  go  back  into  that 
crowded  nest,  with  the  thermometer  on  the  ram- 
page as  it  was  then,  I  had  my  opinion,  and  I 
began  to  think  I  did  n't  care  much  about  wrens 
anyway;  we  stayed,  however,  as  a  matter  of 
habit,  and  I  suppose  they  all  had  a  nap  after 
their  tremendous  exertion.  But  they  manifestly 
got  an  idea  into  their  heads  at  last,  a  taste  of 
life.  After  a  proper  amount  of  consideration, 
one  of  the  nestlings  took  courage  to  move  again, 
and  went  so  far  as  a  twig  that  grew  beside  the 
door,  looked  around  on  the  world  from  that  post 
for  a  while,  then  hopped  to  another,  and  so  on 
till  he  encircled  the  home  stump.  But  when  he 
came  again  in  sight  of  that  delectable  nest, 
he  could  not  resist  it,  and  again  he  added  him- 
self to  the  pile  of  birds  within.  This  youth  was 
apparently  as  well  feathered  as  his  parents,  and, 


182  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

except  in  length  of  tail,  looked  exactly  like 
them ;  many  a  bird  baby  starts  bravely  out  in 
life  not  half  so  well  prepared  for  it  as  this  little 
wren. 

After  nearly  three  hours  of  waiting,  we  made 
up  our  minds  that  these  young  folk  must  be  out 
some  time  during  the  day,  unless  they  had  de- 
cided to  take  up  permanent  quarters  in  that 
hole  in  the  stump,  and  what  was  more  to  the 
point,  that  the  weather  was  too  warm  to  await 
their  very  deliberate  movements.  So  we  left 
them,  to  get  off  the  best  way  they  could  without 
us,  or  to  stay  there  all  their  lives,  if  they  so 
desired. 

The  nest,  which  at  first  was  exceedingly  pic- 
turesque —  and  I  had  resolved  to  bring  it  away, 
with  the  stump  that  held  it  —  was  now  so  de- 
molished that  I  no  longer  coveted  it.  The  last 
and  sweetest  song  of  the  wren,  "  Shame-ber-ee !  " 
rang  out  joyously  as  we  turned  our  faces  to  the 
north,  and  bade  a  long  farewell  to  the  Great 
Carolinians. 


XVI. 

THE  APPLE-TREE  NEST. 

All  day  long  in  the  elm,  on  their  swaying  perches  swinging, 
New-fledged  orioles  utter  their  restless,  querulous  notes. 
HARRIET  PRESCOTT  SPOFFORD. 

THE  little  folk  let  out  the  secret,  as  little  folk 
often  do,  and  after  they  had  called  attention  to 
it,  I  was  surprised  that  I  had  not  myself  seen 
the  pretty  hammock  swinging  high  up  in  the 
apple  boughs. 

It  was,  however,  in  a  part  of  the  grounds  I 
did  not  often  visit,  partly  because  the  trees 
close  by,  which  formed  a  belt  across  the  back  of 
the  place,  grew  so  near  together  that  not  a 
breath  of  air  could  penetrate,  and  it  was  intol- 
erable in  the  hot  June  days,  and  partly  because 
my  appearance  there  always  created  a  panic. 
So  seldom  did  a  human  being  visit  that  neg- 
lected spot,  that  the  birds  did  not  look  for 
guests,  and  a  general  stampede  followed  the 
approach  of  one. 

On  the  eventful  day  of  my  happy  discovery  I 
was  returning  from  my  daily  call  upon  a  blue 
jay  who  had  set  up  her  home  in  an  apple-tree 


184  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

in  a  neighbor's  yard.  The  moment  I  entered 
the  grounds  I  noticed  a  great  outcry.  It  was 
loud ;  it  was  incessant ;  and  it  was  of  many 
voices.  Following  the  sound,  I  started  across 
the  unmown  field, 

"  Through  the  bending  grasses, 

Tall  and  lushy  green, 
All  alive  with  tiny  things, 
Stirring  feet  and  whin-ing  wings 

Just  an  instant  seen," 

and  soon  came  in  sight  of  the  nest  near  the  top- 
most twig  of  an  old  apple-tree. 

It  was  about  noon  of  a  bright,  sunny  day,  and 
I  could  see  only  that  the  nest  was  straw-color, 
apparently  run  over  with  little  ones,  and  both 
the  parents  were  industriously  feeding.  The 
cries  suggested  the  persistence  of  young  orioles, 
but  it  was  not  a  Baltimore's  swinging  cradle, 
and  the  old  birds  were  so  shy,  coming  from  be- 
hind the  leaves,  every  one  of  which  turned 
itself  into  a  reflector  for  the  sunlight,  that  I 
could  not  identify  them. 

Later  in  the  day  I  paid  them  another  visit, 
and  finding  a  better  post  of  observation  under 
the  shade  of  a  sweet-briar  bush,  I  saw  at  once 
they  were  orchard  orioles,  and  that  the  young 
ones  were  climbing  to  the  edge  of  the  nest ;  I 
had  nearly  been  too  late  ! 

Four  o'clock  was  the  unearthly  hour  at  which 


I  HARDENED  MY  HEART.  185 

I  rose  next  morning  to  pursue  my  acquaintance 
with  the  little  family  in  the  apple-tree,  fearful 
lest  they  should  get  the  start  of  me.  The  young- 
sters were  calling  vociferously,  and  both  parents 
were  very  busy  attending  to  their  wants  and 
trying  to  stop  their  mouths,  when  I  planted  my 
seat  before  their  castle  in  the  air,  and  proceeded 
to  inquire  into  their  manners  and  customs.  My 
call  was,  as  usual,  not  received  with  favor.  The 
mother,  after  administering  the  mouthful  she 
had  brought,  alighted  on  a  twig  beside  the  nest 
and  gave  me  a  "  piece  of  her  mind."  I  admit- 
ted my  bad  manners,  but  I  could  not  tear  my- 
self away.  The  anxious  papa,  very  gorgeous  in 
his  chestnut  and  black  suit,  scenting  danger 
to  the  little  brood  in  the  presence  of  the  bird- 
student  with  her  glass,  at  once  abandoned  the 
business  of  feeding,  and  devoted  himself  to  the 
protection  of  his  family,  —  which  indeed  was 
his  plain  duty.  His  way  of  doing  this  was  to 
take  his  position  on  the  tallest  tree  in  the  vicin- 
ity, and  fill  the  serene  morning  air  with  his  cry 
of  distress,  a  two-note  utterance,  with  a  pathetic 
inflection  which  could  not  fail  to  arouse  the 
sympathy  of  all  who  heard  it.  It  was  not  ex- 
cited or  angry,  but  it  proclaimed  that  here  was 
distress  and  danger,  and  it  had  the  effect  of 
making  me  ashamed  of  annoying  him.  But  I 
hardened  my  heart,  as  I  often  have  to  do  in  my 


186  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

study,  and  kept  my  seat.  Occasionally  he  re- 
turned to  the  lower  part  of  his  own  tree,  to  see 
if  the  monster  had  been  scared  or  shamed  away, 
but  finding  me  stationary,  he  returned  to  his 
post  and  resumed  his  mournful  cry. 

At  length  the  happy  thought  came  to  me  that 
I  might  select  a  position  a  little  less  conspicu- 
ous, yet  still  within  sight,  so  I  moved  my  seat 
farther  off,  away  back  under  a  low-branched 
apple-tree,  where  a  redbird  came  around  with 
sharp  "  tsip's  "  to  ascertain  my  business,  and  a 
catbird  behind  the  briar-bush  entertained  me 
with  delicious  song.  The  oriole  accepted  my 
retirement  as  a  compromise,  and  returned  to  his 
domestic  duties,  coming,  as  was  natural  and 
easiest,  on  my  side  of  the  tree.  His  habit  was 
to  cling  to  the  side  of  the  nest,  showing  his 
black  and  red-gold  against  it,  while  his  mate 
alighted  on  the  edge,  and  was  seen  a  little  above 
it.  After  feeding,  both  perched  on  neighboring 
twigs  and  looked  about  for  a  moment  before 
the  next  food-hunting  trip.  I  thought  the  father 
of  the  family  exhibited  an  air  of  resignation,  as 
if  he  concluded  that,  since  the  babies  made  so 
much  noise,  there  was  no  use  in  trying  longer 
to  preserve  the  secret. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  both  our  orioles  need  a 
good  stock  of  patience  as  well  as  of  resignation, 
for  the  infants  of  both  are  unceasing  in  their 


A  MUTUAL  SURPRISE.  187 

cries,  and  fertile  in  inventing  variations  in  man- 
ner and  inflection,  that  would  deceive  those  most 
familiar  with  them.  Two  or  three  times  in  the 
weeks  that  followed,  I  rushed  out  of  the  house 
to  find  some  very  distressed  bird,  who,  I  was 
sure,  from  the  cries,  must  be  impaled  alive  on  a 
butcher-bird's  meat-hook,  or  undergoing  torture 
at  the  hands  —  or  beak  of  somebody.  It  was 
rather  dangerous  going  out  at  that  time  (just  at 
dusk),  for  it  was  the  chosen  hour  for  young 
men  and  maidens,  of  whom  there  were  several, 
to  wander  about  under  the  trees.  Often,  before 
I  gave  up  going  out  at  that  hour,  my  glass, 
turned  to  follow  a  flitting  wing,  would  bring 
before  niy  startled  gaze  a  pair  of  sentimental 
young  persons,  who  doubtless  thought  I  was  spy- 
ing upon  them.  My  only  safety  was  in  direct- 
ing my  glass  into  the  trees,  where  nothing  but 
wings  could  be  sentimental,  and  if  a  bird  flitted 
below  the  level  of  branches,  to  consider  him  lost. 
On  following  up  the  cry,  I  always  found  a 
young  oriole  and  a  hard-worked  father  feeding 
him.  The  voice  did  not  even  suggest  an  oriole 
to  me,  until  I  had  been  deceived  two  or  three 
times  and  understood  it. 

The  young  ones  of  the  orchard  oriole's  nest 
lived  up  to  the  traditions  of  the  family  by  being 
inveterate  cry-babies,  and  making  so  much  noise 
they  could  be  heard  far  around.  Sometimes 


188  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

their  mother  addressed  them  in  a  similar  tone 
to  their  own,  but  the  father  resigned  himself  to 
the  inevitable,  and  fed  with  dogged  persever- 
ance. 

The  apple-tree  nest  looked  in  the  morning 
sun  of  a  bright  flax  color,  and  two  of  the  young 
were  mounted  on  the  edge,  dressing  their  yellow 
satin  breasts,  and  gleaming  in  the  sunshine  like 
gold. 

A  Baltimore  oriole,  passing  over,  seemed  to  be 
attracted  by  a  familiar  quality  of  sound,  for  he 
came  down,  alighted  about  a  foot  from  the  nest, 
and  looked  with  interest  upon  the  charming 
family  scene.  The  protector  of  the  pretty  brood 
was  near,  but  he  kept  his  seat,  and  made  no 
objections  to  the  friendly  call.  Indeed,  he  flew 
away  while  the  guest  was  still  there,  and  having 
satisfied  his  curiosity,  the  Baltimore  also  de- 
parted upon  his  own  business. 

When  the  sun  appeared  over  the  tree-tops, 
he  came  armed  with  all  his  terrors.  The  breeze 
dwindled  and  died ;  the  very  leaves  hung  life- 
less on  the  trees,  and  though,  knowing  that 

"  Somewhere  the  wind  is  blowing, 

Though  here  where  I  gasp  and  sigh 
Not  a  breath  of  air  is  stirring, 
Not  a  cloud  in  the  burning  sky," 

the  memory  might  comfort  me,  it  did  not  in 
the  slightest  degree  make  me  comfortable  —  I 


THE  BABIES1  LADDER.  189 

wilted,  and  retired  before  it.  How  the  birds 
could  endure  it  and  carry  on  their  work,  I  could 
not  understand. 

At  noon  I  ventured  out  over  the  burning 
grass.  The  first  youngster  had  left  the  nest, 
and  was  shouting  from  a  tree  perhaps  twenty 
feet  beyond  the  native  apple.  The  others  were 
fluttering  on  the  edge,  crying  as  usual.  As  is 
the  customary  domestic  arrangement  with  many 
birds,  the  moment  the  first  one  flew,  the  father 
stopped  coming  to  the  nest,  and  devoted  himself 
to  the  straggler,  which  was  a  little  hard  on  the 
mother  that  hot  day,  for  she  had  four  to  feed. 

While  I  looked  on,  the  second  infant  mus- 
tered up  courage  to  start  on  the  journey  of  life. 
A  tall  twig  led  from  the  nest  straight  up  into 
the  air,  and  this  was  the  ladder  he  mounted. 
Step  by  step  he  climbed  one  leaf-stem  after 
another,  with  several  pauses  to  cry  and  to  eat, 
and  at  last  reached  the  topmost  point,  where  he 
turned  his  face  to  the  west,  and  took  his  first 
survey  of  the  kingdoms  of  the  earth.  A  brother 
nestling  was  close  behind  him,  and  the  pretty 
pair,  seeing  no  more  steps  above  them,  rested 
a  while  from  their  labors.  In  the  mean  time 
the  first  young  oriole  had  gone  farther  into  the 
trees,  and  papa  with  him. 

The  little  dame  worked  without  ceasing, 
though  it  must  have  been  an  anxious  time,  with 


190  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

nestlings  all  stirring  abroad.  I  noticed  that  she 
fed  oftenest  the  birdlings  who  were  out,  whether 
to  strengthen  them  for  further  effort,  or  to 
offer  an  inducement  to  those  in  the  nest  to  come 
up  higher  where  food  was  to  be  had,  she  did 
not  tell.  I  observed,  also,  that  when  she  came 
home  she  did  not,  as  before,  alight  on  the  level 
of  the  little  ones,  but  above  them.  Perhaps 
this  was  to  coax  them  upward ;  at  any  rate,  it 
had  that  effect :  they  stretched  up  and  mounted 
the  next  stem  above,  and  so  they  kept  on  as- 
cending. About  three  o'clock  I  was  again 
obliged  to  surrender  to  the  power  of  the  sun, 
and  retire  for  a  season  to  a  place  he  could  not 
enter,  the  house. 

Some  hours  passed  before  I  made  my  next 
call,  and  I  found  that  oriole  matters  had  not 
rested,  if  I  had;  the  two  nestlings  had  taken 
flight  to  the  tree  the  first  one  had  chosen,  and 
three  were  on  the  top  twig  above  the  nest,  which 
latter  swung  empty  and  deserted.  Mamma  was 
feeding  the  three  in  her  own  tree,  while  papa 
attended  as  usual  to  the  outsiders,  and  found 
leisure  to  drop  in  a  song  now  and  then. 

While  I  watched,  number  three  took  his  life 
in  his  hands  (as  it  were)  and  launched  out 
upon  the  air.  He  reached  a  tree  not  so  far 
away  as  his  brothers  had  chosen,  and  his  mother 
sought  him  out  and  fed  him  there.  But  he  did 


SINGING  GOOD-BY.  191 

not  seem  to  be  satisfied  with  his  achievement,  or 
possibly  he  found  the  position  rather  lonely; 
at  any  rate,  the  next  use  of  his  wings  was  to 
return  to  his  native  apple,  to  the  lower  part. 
During  this  visit,  the  mother  of  the  little  brood, 
seeing,  I  suppose,  her  labors  growing  lighter, 
indulged  herself  and  delighted  me  with  a  scrap 
of  song,  very  sweet,  as  the  song  of  the  female 
oriole  always  is. 

It  was  with  forebodings  that  I  approached 
the  tree  the  next  morning,  foreboding  speedily 
confirmed  —  the  whole  family  was  gone  !  Either 
I  had  not  stayed  late  enough  or  I  had  not  got 
up  early  enough  to  see  the  flitting ;  that  song, 
then,  meant  something  —  it  was  my  good-by. 

Indeed  it  turned  out  to  be  my  farewell,  as  I 
thought,  for  the  whole  tribe  seemed  to  have 
vanished.  Usually  it  is  not  difficult  to  hunt  up 
a  little  bird  family  in  its  wanderings,  during  the 
month  following  its  leaving  the  nest,  but  this 
one  I  could  neither  see  nor  hear,  and  I  was  very 
sure  those  oriole  babies  had  not  so  soon  out- 
grown their  crying ;  they  must  have  been  struck 
dumb  or  left  the  place. 

Nearly  three  weeks  later  I  was  wandering 
about  in  what  was  called  the  glen,  half  a  mile 
or  more  from  where  the  apple-tree  babies  had 
first  seen  the  light.  It  was  a  wild  spot,  a  ra- 
vine, through  which  ran  a  stream,  where  many 


192  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

wood-birds  sang  and  nested.  On  approaching 
a  linden-tree  loaded  with  blossoms,  and  hum- 
ming with  swarms  of  bees,  I  was  saluted  with 
a  burst  of  loud  song,  interspersed  with  scold- 
ing. No  one  but  an  orchard  oriole  could  so 
mix  things,  and  sure  enough!  there  he  was, 
scrambling  over  the  flowers.  Something  he 
found  to  his  taste,  whether  the  blossoms  or  the 
insects,  I  could  not  decide.  On  waiting  a  little, 
I  heard  the  young  oriole  cry,  much  subdued 
since  nesting  days,  and  the  tender  "  ye-ep  "  of 
the  parent.  The  whole  family  was  evidently 
there  together,  and  I  was  very  glad  to  see  them 
once  more. 

The  nest,  which  I  had  brought  down,  was  a 
beautiful  structure,  made,  I  think,  of  very  fine 
excelsior  of  a  bright  straw-color.  It  was  sus- 
pended in  an  upright  fork  of  four  twigs,  and 
lashed  securely  to  three  of  them,  while  a  few 
lines  were  passed  around  the  fourth.  Though 
it  was  in  a  fork,  it  did  not  rest  on  it,  but  was 
suspended  three  inches  above  it,  a  genuine 
hanging  nest.  It  was  three  inches  deep  and 
wide,  but  drawn  in  about  the  top  to  a  width  of 
not  more  than  two  inches,  with  a  bit  of  cotton 
and  two  small  feathers  for  bedding.  How  five 
babies  could  grow  up  in  that  little  cup  is  a 
problem.  The  material  was  woven  closely  to- 
gether, and  in  addition  stitched  through  and 


THE  ORIOLE  BABIE&  HOME.  193 

through,  up  and  down,  to  make  a  firm  struc- 
ture. Around  and  against  it  hung  still  six 
apples,  defrauded  of  their  manifest  destiny,  and 
remaining  the  size  of  hickory -nuts.  Three  twigs 
that  ran  up  were  cut  off,  but  the  fourth  was  left, 
the  tallest,  the  one  sustaining  the  burden  of  the 
nest,  and  upon  which  the  young  birds,  one  after 
another,  had  mounted  to  take  their  first  flight. 
This  pretty  hammock,  in  its  setting  of  leaves 
and  apples,  still  swinging  from  the  apple  boughs, 
I  brought  home  as  a  souvenir  of  a  charming 
bird  study. 


XVII. 
CEDAR-TREE  LITTLE  FOLK. 

"£is  there  that  the  wild  dove  has  her  nest, 

And  whenever  the  branches  stir, 
She  presses  closer  the  eggs  to  her  breast, 

And  her  mate  looks  down  on  her. 

CLAKE  BEATBICB  COFFEY. 

ONE  of  the  voices  that  helped  to  make  my 
June  musical,  and  one  more  constantly  heard 
than  any  other,  was  that  of  the 

"  Mourning  dove  who  grieves  and  grieves, 
And  lost !  lost !  lost !  still  seems  to  say," 

as  the  poet  has  it. 

Now,  while  I  dearly  love  the  poets,  and  al- 
ways long  to  enrich  my  plain  prose  with  gems 
from  their  verse,  it  is  sometimes  a  little  embar- 
rassing, because  one  is  obliged  to  disagree  with 
them.  If  they  would  only  look  a  little  into  the 
ways  of  birds,  and  not  assert,  in  language  so 
musical  that  one  can  hardly  resist  it,  that 

"  The  birds  come  back  to  last  year's  nests," 
when  rarely  was  a  self-respecting  bird  known 
to  shirk  the  labor  of  building  anew  for  every 
family  ;  or  sing,  with  Sill, 


THE  POETS'  BIRDS.  195 

"  He  has  lost  his  last  year's  love,  I  know," 

when  he  did  not  know  any  such  thing ;  and 
add, 

"  A  thrush  forgets  in  a  year," 

which  I  call  a  libel  on  one  of  our  most  intelli- 
gent birds ;  or  cry,  with  another  singer, 
"  O  voiceless  swallow," 

when  not  one  of  the  whole  tribe  is  defrauded  of 
a  voice,  and  at  least  one  is  an  exquisite  singer ; 
or  accuse  the  nightingale  of  the  -superfluous 
idiocy  of  holding  his  (though  they  always  say 
her)  breast  to  a  thorn  as  he  sings,  as  if  he  were 
so  foolish  as  to  imitate  some  forms  of  human 
self-torture,  —  if  they  would  only  be  a  little 
more  sure  of  their  facts,  what  a  comfort  it 
would  be  to  those  who  love  both  poets  and 
birds! 

No  bird  in  our  country  is  more  persistently 
misrepresented  by  our  sweet  singers  than  the 
Carolina  or  wood  dove  —  mourning  dove,  as  he 
is  popularly  called ;  and  in  this  case  they  are 
not  to  be  blamed,  for  prose  writers,  even  natural 
history  writers,  are  quite  as  bad. 

"  His  song  consists,"  says  one,  "  of  four 
notes  :  the  first  seems  to  be  uttered  with  an  in- 
spiration of  the  breath,  as  if  the  afflicted  crea- 
ture were  just  recovering  its  voice  from  the  last 
convulsive  sob  of  distress,  and  followed  by  three 
long,  deep,  and  mournful  meanings,  that  no 


196  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

person  of  sensibility  can  listen  to  without  sym- 
pathy." "  The  solemn  voice  of  sorrow,"  an- 
other writer  calls  it.  All  this  is  mere  sentimen- 
tality, pure  imagination ;  and  if  the  writers 
could  sit,  as  I  have,  under  the  tree  when  the 
bird  was  singing,  they  would  change  their  opin- 
ion, though  they  would  thereby  lose  a  pretty 
and  attractive  sentiment  for  their  verse.  I  be- 
lieve there  is 

"  No  beast  or  bird  in  earth  or  sky, 
Whose  voice  doth  not  with  gladness  thrill," 

though  it  may  not  so  express  itself  to  our  senses. 
Certainly  the  coo  of  the  dove  is  anything  but 
sad  when  heard  very  near.  It  has  a  rich,  far-off 
sound,  expressing  deep  serenity,  and  a  happiness 
beyond  words. 

First  in  the  morning,  and  last  at  night,  all 
through  June,  came  to  me  the  song  of  the  dove. 
As  early  as  four  o'clock  his  notes  began,  and 
then,  if  I  got  up  to  look  out  on  the  lawn,  where 
I  had  spread  breakfast  for  him  and  other  feath- 
ered friends,  I  would  see  him  walking  about 
with  dainty  steps  on  his  pretty  red  toes,  looking 
the  pink  of  propriety  in  his  Quaker  garb,  his 
satin  vest  smooth  as  if  it  had  been  ironed  down, 
and  quite  worthy  his  reputed  character  for 
meekness  and  gentleness. 

But  I  wanted  to  see  the  dove  far  from  the 
"  madding  crowd  "  of  blackbirds,  blue  jays,  and 


GRAVE  BABY  DOVES.  197 

red-heads,  who,  as  well  as  himself,  took  corn  for 
breakfast,  and  I  set  out  to  look  him  up.  At 
first  the  whole  family  seemed  to  consist  of  the 
young,  just  flying  about,  sometimes  accompanied 
by  their  mother.  Apparently  the  fathers  of  the 
race  were  all  off  in  the  cooing  business. 

So  early  as  the  second  of  June  I  came  upon 
my  first  pair  of  young  doves,  two  charming  little 
creatures,  sitting  placidly  side  by  side.  Grave, 
indeed,  and  very  much  grown-up  looked  these 
drab-coated  little  folk,  silent  and  motionless, 
returning  my  gaze  with  an  innocent  openness 
that,  it  seemed  to  me,  must  disarm  their  most 
bitter  enemy.  When  I  came  upon  such  a  pair, 
as  I  frequently  did,  on  the  low  branch  of  an 
apple-tree  or  a  limb  of  their  native  cedar,  I 
stopped  instantly  to  look  at  them.  Not  an  eye- 
lid of  the  youngsters  would  move;  if  a  head 
were  turned  as  they  heard  me  coming,  it  would 
remain  at  precisely  that  angle  as  long  as  I  had 
patience  to  stay.  They  were  invariably  sitting 
down  with  the  appearance  of  being  prepared  to 
stay  all  day,  and  almost  always  side  by  side, 
though  looking  in  different  directions,  and  one 
was  always  larger  than  the  other.  A  lovely 
and  picturesque  group  they  never  failed  to 
make,  and  as  for  any  show  of  hunger  or  impa- 
tience, one  could  hardly  imagine  they  ever  felt 
either.  In  every  way  they  were  a  violent  con- 


198  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

trast  to  all  their  neighbors,  the  boisterous  blue 
jays,  lively  catbirds,  blustering  robins,  and  vul- 
gar-mannered blackbirds. 

Sometimes  I  chanced  upon  a  mother  sitting 
by  her  youngling,  and  although  when  I  found 
her  alone  she  always  flew,  beside  her  little 
charge  she  was  dignified  and  calm  in  bearing, 
and  looked  at  me  with  fearless  eyes,  relying, 
as  it  appeared,  upon  absolute  stillness,  and  the 
resemblance  of  her  color  to  the  branches,  to 
escape  observation ;  a  ruse  which  must  generally 
be  successful. 

The  nest,  the  remains  of  which  I  often  saw 
on  the  tree  where  I  found  an  infant,  was  the 
merest  apology,  hardly  more  than  a  platform, 
just  enough  to  hold  the  pair  of  eggs  which  they 
are  said  always  to  contain.  Indeed,  no  baby 
but  a  serene  dove,  with  the  repose  of  thirty  gen- 
erations behind  it,  could  stay  in  it  till  his  wings 
grew.  As  it  is,  he  must  be  forced  to  perch, 
whether  ready  or  not,  for  the  structure  cannot 
hold  together  long.  The  wonder  is  that  the 
eggs  do  not  roll  out  before  they  are  hatched. 

Several  things  made  the  bird  an  interesting 
subject  for  study  ;  his  reputation  for  meekness, 
his  alleged  silence,  —  except  at  wooing  time,  — 
and  the  halo  of  melancholy  with  which  the  poets 
have  invested  him.  I  resolved  to  make  acquaint- 
ance with  my  gentle  neighbor,  and  I  sought 


THE  DOVE'S  HEADQUARTERS.         199 

and  found  a  favorite  retreat  of  the  silent  family. 
This  was  a  grove  away  down  in  the  southeast 
corner  of  the  grounds,  little  visited  by  people, 
and  beloved  by  birds  of  several  kinds.  Till 
June  was  half  over,  the  high  grass,  that  I  could 
not  bear  to  trample,  prevented  exploration  in 
that  direction,  but  as  soon  as  it  was  cut  I  made 
a  trip  to  the  little  grove,  and  found  it  a  sort  of 
doves'  headquarters,  and  there,  in  many  hours 
of  daily  study,  I  learned  to  know  him  a  little, 
and  respect  him  a  good  deal. 

It  was  a  delightful  spot  the  doves  had  chosen 
to  live  in,  and  so  frequented  by  birds  that 
whichever  way  I  turned  my  face,  in  two  minutes 
I  wished  I  had  turned  it  the  other,  or  that  I  had 
eyes  in  the  back  of  my  head.  With  reason,  too, 
for  the  residents  skipped  around  behind  me,  and 
all  the  interesting  things  went  on  at  my  back. 
I  could  hear  the  flit  of  wings,  low,  mysterious 
sounds,  whispering,  gentle  complaints  and  hush- 
ings,  but  if  I  turned  —  lo !  the  scene  shifted, 
and  the  drama  of  life  was  still  enacted  out  of 
my  sight.  Yet  I  managed,  in  spite  of  this  diffi- 
culty, to  learn  several  things  I  did  not  know 
before. 

No  one  attends  to  his  own  business  more 
strictly  than  the  dove.  On  the  ground,  where 
he  came  for  corn,  he  seemed  to  see  no  other 
bird,  and  paid  not  the  slightest  heed  to  me  in 


200  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

my  window,  but  went  about  his  own  affairs  in 
the  most  matter-of-fact  way.  Yet  I  cannot 
agree  with  the  common  opinion,  which  has  made 
his  name  a  synonym  for  all  that  is  meek  and 
gentle.  He  has  a  will  of  his  own,  and  a  "  mild 
but  firm  "  way  of  securing  it.  Sometimes,  when 
all  were  busy  at  the  corn,  one  of  my  Quaker- 
clad  guests  would  take  a  notion,  for  what  reason 
I  could  not  discover,  that  some  other  dove  must 
not  stay,  and  he  would  drive  him  (or  her)  off. 
He  was  not  rude  or  blustering,  like  the  robin, 
nor  did  he  make  offensive  remarks,  after  the 
manner  of  a  blackbird ;  he  simply  signified  his 
intention  of  having  his  neighbor  go,  and  go  he 
did,  nolens  volens. 

It  was  droll  to  see  how  this  "  meek  and  gentle  " 
fellow  met  blackbird  impudence.  If  one  of  the 
sable  gentry  came  down  too  near  a  dove,  the 
latter  gave  a  little  hop  and  rustled  his  feathers, 
but  did  not  move  one  step  away.  For  some 
occult  reason  the  blackbird  seemed  to  respect 
this  mild  protest,  and  did  not  interfere  again. 

Would  one  suspect  so  solemn  a  personage  of 
joking?  yet  what  else  could  this  little  scene 
mean  ?  A  blackbird  was  on  the  ground  eating, 
when  a  dove  flew  down  and  hovered  over  him  as 
though  about  to  alight  upon  him.  It  evidently 
impressed  the  blackbird  exactly  as  it  did  me, 
for  he  scrambled  out  from  under,  very  hastily. 


IS  THE  DOVE  SPEECHLESS!  201 

But  the  dove  had  no  intention  of  the  sort ;  he 
came  calmly  down  on  one  side. 

The  first  dove  baby  who  accompanied  its 
parent  to  the  ground  to  be  fed  was  the  model 
of  propriety  one  would  expect  from  the  demure 
infant  already  mentioned.  He  stood  crouching 
to  the  ground  in  silence,  fluttering  his  wings  a 
little,  but  making  no  sound,  either  of  begging, 
or  when  fed.  A  blackbird  came  to  investigate 
this  youngster,  so  different  from  his  importunate 
offspring,  upon  which  both  doves  flew. 

There  is  a  unique  quality  claimed  for  the 
dove  :  that  with  the  exception  of  the  well-known 
coo  in  nesting  time  he  is  absolutely  silent,  and 
that  the  noise  which  accompanies  his  flight  is 
the  result  of  a  peculiar  formation  of  the  wing 
that  causes  a  whistle.  Of  this  I  had  strong 
doubts.  I  could  not  believe  that  a  bird  who  has 
so  much  to  say  for  himself  during  wooing  and 
nesting  time  could  be  utterly  silent  the  rest  of 
the  year ;  nor,  indeed,  do  I  believe  that  any  liv- 
ing creature,  so  highly  organized  as  the  feathered 
tribes,  can  be  entirely  without  expression. 

I  thought  I  would  experiment  a  little,  and 
one  day,  observing  that  a  young  dove  spent  most 
of  his  time  alone  on  a  certain  cedar-tree,  where 
a  badly  used-up  nest  showed  that  he  had  prob- 
ably been  hatched,  or  feeding  on  the  ground 
near  it,  I  resolved  to  see  if  I  could  draw  him  out. 


202  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

I  passed  Mm  six  times  a  day,  going  and  coming 
from  my  meals,  and  I  always  stopped  to  look  at 
him  —  a  scrutiny  which  he  bore  unmoved,  in 
dove  fashion.  So  one  morning,  when  I  stood 
three  feet  from  him,  I  began  a  very  low  whistle 
to  him.  He  was  at  once  interested,  and  after 
about  three  calls  he  answered  me,  very  low,  it 
is  true,  but  still  unmistakably.  Though  he  re- 
plied, however,  it  appeared  to  make  him  uneasy, 
for  while  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  submitting 
to  my  staring  without  being  in  any  way  discon- 
certed, he  now  began  to  fidget  about.  He  stood 
up,  changed  his  place,  flew  to  a  higher  branch, 
and  in  a  few  moments  to  the  next  tree  ;  all  the 
time,  however,  answering  my  calls. 

I  was  greatly  interested  in  my  new  acquaint- 
ance, and  the  next  day  I  renewed  my  advances. 
As  before,  he  answered,  looking  bright  and 
eager,  as  I  had  never  seen  one  of  his  kind  look, 
and  after  three  or  four  replies  he  became  uneasy, 
as  on  the  previous  day,  and  in  a  moment  he  flew. 
But  I  was  surprised  and  startled  by  his  starting 
straight  for  me.  I  thought  he  would  certainly 
alight  on  me,  and  such,  I  firmly  believe,  was  his 
inclination,  but  he  apparently  did  not  quite  dare 
trust  me,  so  he  passed  over  by  a  very  few  inches, 
and  perched  on  the  tree  I  was  under.  Then  — 
still  replying  to  me  —  he  flew  to  the  ground  not 
six  feet  from  me,  and  step  by  step,  slowly  moved 


COAXING  A  BABY  DOVE.  203 

away  perhaps  fifteen  feet,  when  he  turned  and 
flew  back  to  his  own  tree  beside  me.  I  was 
pleased  to  notice  that  the  voice  of  this  talkative 
dovekin  was  of  the  same  quality  as  the  "  whis- 
tling "  said  to  be  of  the  wings,  when  a  dove  flies. 
The  last  interview  I  had  with  the  dear  baby, 
I  found  him  sitting  with  his  back  toward  me, 
but  the  instant  I  whistled  he  turned  around  to 
face  me,  and  seated  himself  again.  He  replied 
to  me,  and  fluttered  his  wings  slightly,  yet  he 
soon  became  restless,  as  usual.  He  did  not  fly, 
however,  and  he  answered  louder  than  he  had 
done  previously,  but  I  found  that  my  call  must 
be  just  right  to  elicit  a  response.  I  might 
whistle  all  day  and  he  would  pay  no  attention, 
till  I  uttered  a  two-note  call,  the  second  note  a 
third  above  the  first  and  the  two  slurred  together. 
I  was  delighted  to  find  that  even  a  dove,  and  a 
baby  at  that,  could  "  talk  back."  He  was  unique 
in  other  ways ;  for  example,  in  being  content  to 
pass  his  days  in,  and  around,  his  own  tree.  I  do 
not  believe  he  had  ever  been  farther  than  a 
small  group  of  cedars,  ten  feet  from  his  own.  I 
always  found  him  there,  though  he  could  fly  per- 
fectly well.  This  interview  was,  I  regret  to  say, 
the  last ;  the  next  morning  my  little  friend  was 
nowhere  to  be  seen.  Perhaps  mamma  thought 
he  was  getting  too  friendly  with  one  of  a  race 
capable  of  eating  a  baby  dove. 


204  IN  THE  MIDDLE  COUNTRY. 

After  this  episode  in  my  dove  acquaintance,  I 
was  more  than  ever  interested  in  getting  at  tne 
mode  of  expression  in  the  family,  and  I  listened 
on  every  occasion.  One  day  two  doves  alighted 
over  my  head  when  I  was  sitting  perfectly  still, 
and  I  distinctly  heard  very  low  talk,  like  that  of 
my  lost  baby  ;  there  was,  in  addition,  a  note  or 
two  like  the  coo,  but  exceedingly  low.  I  could 
not  have  heard  a  sound  ten  feet  from  the  tree, 
nor  if  I  had  been  stirring  myself.  I  observed 
also  that  a  dove  can  fly  in  perfect  silence ;  and, 
moreover,  that  the  whistle  of  the  wings  some- 
times continues  after  the  bird  has  become  still. 
I  heard  the  regular  coo  —  the  whole  four-note 
performance  — both  in  a  whisper  and  in  the 
ordinary  tone,  and  the  latter,  though  right  over 
my  head,  sounded  a  mile  away.  At  the  end  of 
my  month's  study  I  was  convinced  that  the  dove 
is  far  from  being  a  silent  bird ;  on  the  contrary, 
he  is  quite  a  talker,  with  the  "  low,  sweet  voice  " 
so  much  desired  in  other  quarters.  And  further, 
that  the  whistling  is  not  produced  wholly  (if  at 
all)  by  the  wings,  and  it  is  a  gross  injustice  to 
assert  that  he  is  not  capable  of  expressing  him- 
self at  all  times  and  seasons. 


BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 


Up !  —  If  thou  knew'st  who  calls 

To  twilight  parks  of  beach  and  pine 

High  o'er  the  river  intervals, 

Above  the  plowman's  highest  line, 

Over  the  owner's  farthest  walls ! 

Up !  where  the  airy  citadel 

O'erlooks  the  surging  landscape's  swell ! 


XVIII. 

IN  A  PASTURE. 

THE  word  "  pasture,"  as  used  on  the  shore  of 
the  Great  Salt  Lake,  conveys  no  true  idea  to  one 
whose  associations  with  that  word  have  been 
formed  in  States  east  of  the  Eocky  Mountains. 
Imagine  an  extensive  inclosure  on  the  side  of  a 
mountain,  with  its  barren  -  looking  soil  strewn 
with  rocks  of  all  sizes,  from  a  pebble  to  a 
bowlder,  cut  across  by  an  irrigating  ditch  or 
a  mountain  brook,  dotted  here  and  there  by  sage 
bushes,  and  patches  of  oak-brush,  and  wild  roses, 
and  one  has  a  picture  of  a  Salt  Lake  pasture. 
Closely  examined,  it  has  other  peculiarities. 
There  is  no  half  way  in  its  growths,  no  shading 
off,  so  to  speak,  as  elsewhere ;  not  an  isolated 
shrub,  not  a  solitary  tree,  flourishes  in  the  strange 
soil,  but  trees  and  shrubs  crowd  together  as  if 
for  protection,  and  the  clump,  of  whatever  size 
or  shape,  ends  abruptly,  with  the  desert  coming 
up  to  its  very  edge.  Yet  the  soil,  though  it 
seems  to  be  the  driest  and  most  unpromising  of 
baked  gray  mud,  needs  nothing  more  than  a  lit- 


208       BESIDE  THE  GEE  AT  SALT  LAKE. 

tie  water,  to  clothe  itself  luxuriantly  ;  the  course 
of  a  brook  or  even  an  irrigating  ditch,  if  perma- 
nent, is  marked  by  a  thick  and  varied  border  of 
greenery.  What  the  poor  creatures  who  wan- 
dered over  those  dreary  wastes  could  find  to  eat 
was  a  problem  to  be  solved  only  by  close  obser- 
vation of  their  ways. 

"H.  H."  said  some  years  ago  that  the  mag- 
nificent yucca,  the  glory  of  the  Colorado  mesas, 
was  being  exterminated  by  wandering  cows,  who 
ate  the  buds  as  soon  as  they  appeared.  The  cat- 
tle of  Utah  —  or  their  owners  —  have  a  like 
crime  to  answer  for ;  not  only  do  they  constantly 
feed  upon  rose-buds  and  leaves,  notwithstanding 
the  thorns,  but  they  regale  themselves  upon 
nearly  every  flower-plant  that  shows  its  head  ; 
lupines  were  the  chosen  dainty  of  my  friend's 
horse.  The  animals  become  expert  at  getting 
this  unnatural  food ;  it  is  curious  to  watch  the 
deftness  with  which  a  cow  will  go  through  a  cur- 
rant or  gooseberry  bush,  thrusting  her  head  far 
down  among  the  branches,  and  carefully  picking 
off  the  tender  leaves,  while  leaving  the  stems 
untouched,  and  the  matter-of-course  way  in  which 
she  will  bend  over  and  pull  down  a  tall  sapling, 
to  despoil  it  of  its  foliage. 

In  a  pasture  such  as  I  have  described,  on  the 
western  slope  of  one  of  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
desolate  and  forbidding  though  it  looked,  many 


AN  ECCENTRIC  COSTUME.  209 

hours  of  last  summer's  May  and  June  "went 
their  way,"  if  not 

''  As  softly  as  sweet  dreams  go  down  the  night," 

certainly  with  interest  and  pleasure  to  two  bird- 
students  whose  ways  I  have  sometimes  chroni- 
cled. 

Most  conspicuous,  as  we  toiled  upward  toward 
our  breezy  pasture,  was  a  bird  whose  chosen 
station  was  a  fence  —  a  wire  fence  at  that.  He 
was  a  tanager ;  not  our  brilliant  beauty  in  scarlet 
and  black,  but  one  far  more  gorgeous  and  eccen- 
tric in  costume,  having,  with  the  black  wings  and 
tail  of  our  bird,  a  breast  of  shining  yellow  and 
a  cap  of  crimson.  His  occupation  on  the  sweet 
May  mornings  that  he  lingered  with  us,  on  his 
way  up  the  mountains  for  the  summer,  was  the 
familiar  one  of  getting  his  living,  and  to  that  he 
gave  his  mind  without  reserve.  Not  once  did 
he  turn  curious  eyes  upon  us  as  we  sauntered 
by  or  rested  awhile  to  watch  him.  Eagerly  his 
pretty  head  turned  this  way  and  that,  but  not 
for  us ;  it  was  for  the  winged  creatures  of  the 
air  he  looked,  and  when  one  that  pleased  his 
fancy  fluttered  by  he  dashed  out  and  secured  it, 
returning  to  a  post  or  the  fence  just  as  absorbed 
and  just  as  eager  for  the  next  one.  Every  time 
he  alighted  it  was  a  few  feet  farther  down  the 
fence,  and  thus  he  worked  his  way  out  of  our 
sight,  without  seeming  aware  of  our  existence. 


210       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

This  was  not  stupidity  on  the  part  of  the  crim- 
son-head, nor  was  it  foolhardiness  ;  it  was  simply 
trust  in  his  guardian,  for  he  had  one,  —  one  who 
watched  every  movement  of  ours  with  close  at- 
tention, whose  vigilance  was  never  relaxed,  and 
who  appeared,  when  we  saw  her,  to  be  above  the 
need  of  food.  A  plain  personage  she  was,  clad  in 
modest,  dull  yellow,  —  the  female  tanager.  She 
was  probably  his  mate  ;  at  any  rate,  she  gradu- 
ally followed  him  down  the  fence,  keeping  fifteen 
or  twenty  feet  behind  him,  all  the  time  with  an 
eye  on  us,  ready  to  give  warning  of  the  slightest 
aggressive  movement  on  our  part.  It  would  be 
interesting  to  know  how  my  lord  behaves  up  in 
those  sky-parlors  where  their  summer  homes  are 
made.  No  doubt  he  is  as  tender  and  devoted 
as  most  of  his  race  (all  his  race,  I  would  say, 
if  Mr.  Torrey  had  not  shaken  our  faith  in  the 
ruby-throat),  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  little 
red-heads  in  the  nest  will  be  well  looked  after 
and  fed  by  their  fly-catching  papa. 

Far  different  from  the  cool  unconcern  of  the 
crimson-headed  tanager  were  the  manners  of  an- 
other red-headed  dweller  on  the  mountain.  The 
green-tailed  towhee  he  is  called  in  the  books, 
though  the  red  of  his  head  is  much  more  con- 
spicuous than  the  green  of  his  tail.  In  this 
bird  the  high-bred  repose  of  his  neighbor  was 
replaced  by  the  most  fussy  restlessness.  When 


STRANGE  WAYS  OF  GULLS.  211 

we  surprised  him  on  the  lowest  wire  of  the 
fence,  he  was  terribly  disconcerted,  not  to  say 
thrown  into  a  panic.  He  usually  stood  a  mo- 
ment, holding  his  long  tail  up  in  the  air,  flirted 
his  wings,  turned  his  body  this  way  and  that  in 
great  excitement,  then  hopped  to  the  nearest 
bowlder,  slipped  down  behind  it,  and  ran  off 
through  the  sage  bushes  like  a  mouse.  More 
than  this  we  were  never  able  to  see,  and  where 
he  lived  and  how  his  spouse  looked  we  do  not 
know  to  this  day. 

Most  interesting  of  the  birds  that  we  saw  on 
our  daily  way  to  the  pasture  were  the  gulls ; 
great,  beautiful,  snowy  creatures,  who  looked 
strangely  out  of  place  so  far  away  from  the  sea- 
shore. Stranger,  too,  than  their  change  of  resi- 
dence was  their  change  of  manners  from  the 
wild,  unapproachable  sea-birds,  soaring  and  div- 
ing, and  apparently  spending  their  lives  on  wings 
such  as  the  poet  sings,  — 

"  When  I  had  wings,  my  brother, 

Such  wings  were  mine  as  thine ;  " 

and  of  whose  lives  he  further  says,  — 

"  What  place  man  may,  we  claim  it, 
But  thine,  —  whose  thought  may  name  it  ? 
Free  birds  live  higher  than  freemen, 
And  gladlier  ye  than  we." 

From  this  high  place  in  our  thoughts,  from  this 
realm  of  poetry  and  mystery,  to  come  down  al- 


212       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

most  to  the  tameness  of  the  barnyard  fowl  is  a 
marvelous  transformation,  and  one  is  tempted  to 
believe  the  solemn  announcement  of  the  Salt 
Lake  prophet,  that  the  Lord  sent  them  to  his 
chosen  people. 

The  occasion  of  this  alleged  special  favor  to 
the  Latter  Day  Saints  was  the  advent,  about 
twenty  years  ago,  of  clouds  of  grasshoppers,  be- 
fore which  the  crops  of  the  Western  States  and 
Territories  were  destroyed  as  by  fire.  It  was 
then,  in  their  hour  of  greatest  need,  when  the 
food  upon  which  depended  a  whole  people  was 
threatened,  that  these  beautiful  winged  messen- 
gers appeared.  In  large  flocks  they  came,  from 
no  one  knows  where,  and  settled,  like  so  many 
sparrows,  all  over  the  land,  devouring  almost 
without  ceasing  the  hosts  of  the  foe.  The  crops 
were  saved,  and  all  Deseret  rejoiced.  Was  it 
any  wonder  that  a  people  trained  to  regard  the 
head  of  their  church  as  the  direct  representative 
of  the  Highest  should  believe  these  to  be  really 
birds  of  God,  and  should  accordingly  cherish 
them  ?  Well  would  it  be  for  themselves  if  other 
Christian  peoples  were  equally  believing,  and 
protected  and  cherished  other  winged  messen- 
gers, sent  just  as  truly  to  protect  their  crops. 

The  shrewd  man  who  wielded  the  destinies 
of  his  people  beside  the  Salt  Lake  secured  the 
future  usefulness  of  what  they  considered  the 


THE  GULL  TRANSFORMED.  213 

miraculous  visitation  by  fixing  a  penalty  of  five 
dollars  upon  the  head  of  every  gull  in  the  Terri- 
tory. And  now,  the  birds  having  found  con- 
genial nesting-places  on  solitary  islands  in  the 
lake,  their  descendants  are  so  fearless  and  so 
tame  that  they  habitually  follow  the  plow  like 
a  flock  of  chickens,  rising  from  almost  under  the 
feet  of  the  indifferent  horses  and  settling  down 
at  once  in  the  furrow  behind,  seeking  out  and  eat- 
ing greedily  all  the  worms  and  grubs  and  larvae 
and  mice  and  moles  that  the  plow  has  disturbed 
in  its  passage.  The  Mormon  cultivator  has 
sense  enough  to  appreciate  such  service,  and  no 
man  or  boy  dreams  of  lifting  a  finger  against 
his  best  friend. 

Extraordinary  indeed  was  this  sight  to  eyes 
accustomed  to  seeing  every  bird  who  attempts  to 
render  like  service  shot  and  snared  and  swept 
from  the  face  of  the  earth.  Our  hearts  warmed 
toward  the  "  Sons  of  Zion,"  and  our  respect  for 
their  intelligence  increased,  as  we  hurried  down 
to  the  field  to  see  this  latter-day  wonder. 

Whether  the  birds  distinguished  between 
"  saints  "  and  sinners,  or  whether  their  confi- 
dence extended  only  to  plow-boys,  they  would 
not  let  us  come  near  them.  But  our  glasses 
brought  them  close,  and  we  had  a  very  good 
study  of  them,  finding  exceeding  interest  in  their 
ways  :  their  quaint  faces  as  they  flew  toward 


214       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

us ;  their  dignified  walk ;  their  expression  of  dis- 
approval, lifting  the  wings  high  above  the  back 
till  they  met ;  their  queer  and  constant  cries  in 
the  tone  of  a  child  who  whines ;  and,  above  all, 
their  use  of  the  wonderful  wings,  —  "  half  wing, 
half  wave,"  Mrs.  Spofford  calls  them. 

To  rise  from  the  earth  upon  these  beautiful 
great  arms,  seemed  to  be  not  so  easy  as  it  looks. 
Some  of  the  graceful  birds  lifted  them,  and  ran 
a  little  before  leaving  the  ground,  and  all  of 
them  left  both  legs  hanging,  and  both  feet  jerk- 
ing awkwardly  at  every  wing-beat,  for  a  few  mo- 
ments on  starting,  before  they  carefully  drew 
each  flesh-colored  foot  up  into  its  feather  pillow, 

' '  And  gray  and  silver  up  the  dome 

Of  gray  and  silver  skies  went  sailing," 

in  ever  -  widening  circles,  without  moving  a 
feather  that  we  could  perceive.  It  was  charm- 
ing to  see  how  nicely  they  folded  down  their 
splendid  wings  on  alighting,  stretching  each  one 
out,  and  apparently  straightening  every  feather 
before  laying  it  into  its  place. 

Several  hours  this  interesting  flock  accom- 
panied the  horses  and  man  around  the  field,  tak- 
.  ing  possession  of  each  furrow  as  it  was  laid  open, 
and  chattering  and  eating  as  fast  as  they  could  ; 
and  the  question  occurred  to  me,  if  a  field  that  is 
thoroughly  gleaned  over  every  spring  furnishes 
so  great  a  supply  of  creatures  hurtful  to  vegeta- 


BEAUTIFUL  DISPLAY.  215 

tion,  what  must  be  the  state  of  grounds  which 
are  carefully  protected  from  such  gleaning,  on 
which  no  bird  is  allowed  to  forage? 

& 

As  noon  approached,  the  hour  when  "  birds 
their  wise  siesta  take,"  although  the  plow  did 
not  cease  its  monotonous  round,  the  birds  retired 
in  a  body  to  the  still  untouched  middle  of  the 
field,  and  settled  themselves  for  their  "noon- 
ing," dusting  themselves  —  their  snowy  plumes ! 
—  like  hens  on  an  ash  heap,  sitting  about  in 
knots  like  parties  of  ducks,  preening  and  shak- 
ing themselves  out,  or  going  at  once  to  sleep,  ac- 
cording to  their  several  tastes.  Half  an  hour's 
rest  sufficed  for  the  more  active  spirits,  and 
then  they  treated  us,  their  patient  observers,  to 
an  aerial  exhibition.  A  large  number,  perhaps 
three  quarters  of  the  flock,  rose  in  a  body  and 
began  a  spiral  flight.  Higher  and  higher  they 
went,  in  wider  and  wider  circles,  till,  against 
the  white  clouds,  they  looked  like  a  swarm  of 
midges,  and  against  the  blue  the  eye  could  not 
distinguish  them.  Then  from  out  of  the  sky 
dropped  one  after  another,  leaving  the  soaring 
flock  looking  wonderfully  ethereal  and  gauzy  in 
the  clear  air,  with  the  sun  above  him,  almost 
like  a  spirit  bird  gliding  motionless  through  the 
ether  till  he  alighted  at  last  quietly  beside  his  fel- 
lows on  the  ground.  In  another  half  hour  they 
were  all  behind  the  plow  again,  hard  at  work. 


216       BESIDE  THE  GEE  AT  SALT  LAKE. 

When  we  had  looked  our  fill,  we  straightway 
sought  out  and  questioned  some  of  the  wise  men 
among  the  "  peculiar  people."  This  is  what  we 
learned :  that  when  plowing  is  over  the  birds 
retire  to  their  home,  an  island  in  the  lake, 
where,  being  eminently  social  birds,  their  nests 
are  built  in  a  community.  Their  beneficent  ser- 
vice to  mankind  does  not  end  with  the  plowing 
season,  for  when  that  is  over  they  turn  their  at- 
tention to  the  fish  that  are  brought  into  the  lake 
by  the  fresh-water  streams,  at  once  strangled  by 
its  excess  of  salt,  and  their  bodies  washed  up  on 
the  shore.  What  would  become  of  the  human 
residents  if  that  animal  deposit  were  left  for 
the  fierce  sun  to  dispose  of,  may  perhaps  be  im- 
agined. The  gull  should,  indeed,  be  a  sacred 
bird  in  Utah. 

What  drew  us  first  to  the  pasture  —  which  we 
came  to  at  last  —  was  our  search  for  a  magpie's 
nest.  The  home  of  this  knowing  fellow  is  the 
Rocky  Mountain  region,  and,  naturally,  he  was 
the  first  bird  we  thought  of  looking  for.  There 
would  be  no  difficulty  in  finding  nests,  we 
thought,  for  we  came  upon  magpies  everywhere 
in  our  walks.  Now  one  alighted  on  a  fence-post 
a  few  yards  ahead  of  us,  earnestly  regarding  our 
approach,  tilting  upward  his  long,  expressive 
tail,  the  black  of  his  plumage  shining  with  bril- 
liant blue  reflections,  and  the  white  fairly  daz- 


A  MAGPIE'S  NEST.  217 

zling  the  eyes.  Again  we  caught  glimpses  of 
two  or  three  of  the  beautiful  birds  walking 
about  on  the  ground,  holding  their  precious  tails 
well  up  from  the  earth,  and  gleaning  indus- 
triously the  insect  life  of  the  horse  pasture.  At 
one  moment  we  were  saluted  from  the  top  of  a 
tall  tree,  or  shrieked  at  by  one  passing  over  our 
heads,  looking  like  an  immense  dragonfly  against 
the  sky.  Magpie  voices  were  heard  from  morn- 
ing till  night ;  strange,  loud  calls  of  "  mag ! 
mag  !  "  were  ever  in  our  ears.  "  Oh,  yes,"  we 
had  said,  "  we  must  surely  go  out  some  morning 
and  find  a  nest." 

First  we  inquired.  Everybody  knew  where 
they  built,  in  oak-brush  or  in  apple-trees,  but 
not  a  boy  in  that  village  knew  where  there  was 
a  nest.  Oh,  no,  not  one !  A  man. confessed  to 
the  guilty  secret,  and,  directed  by  him,  we  took 
a  long  walk  through  the  village  with  its  queer 
little  houses,  many  of  them  having  the  two  front 
doors  which  tell  the  tale  of  Mormondom  within ; 
up  the  long  sidewalk,  with  a  beautiful  bounding 
mountain  brook  running  down  the  gutter,  as  if 
it  were  a  tame  irrigating  ditch,  to  a  big  gate  in 
a  "  combination  fence."  What  this  latter  might 
be  we  had  wondered,  but  relied  upon  knowing 
it  when  we  saw  it,  —  and  we  did  :  it  was  a  fence 
of  laths  held  together  by  wires  woven  between 
them,  and  we  recognized  the  fitness  of  the  name 


218       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

instantly.  Then  on  through  the  big  gate,  down 
a  long  lane,  where  we  ran  the  gauntlet  of  the 
family  cows  ;  over  or  under  bars,  where  awaited 
us  a  tribe  of  colts  with  their  anxious  mammas ; 
and  at  last  to  the  tree  and  the  nest.  There  our 
guide  met  us  and  climbed  up  to  explore.  Alas ! 
the  nest  robber  had  anticipated  us. 

Slowly  we  took  our  way  home,  resolved  to  ask 
no  more  help,  but  to  seek  for  ourselves,  for  the 
nest  that  is  known  is  the  nest  that  is  robbed. 
So  the  next  morning,  armed  with  camp-chairs 
and  alpenstocks,  drinking-cups  and  notebooks, 
we  started  up  the  mountain,  where  we  could  at 
least  find  solitude,  and  the  fresh  air  of  the  hills. 
We  climbed  till  we  were  tired,  and  then,  as  was 
our  custom,  sat  down  to  rest  and  breathe,  and 
see  who  lived  in  that  part  of  the  world.  With- 
out thought  of  the  height  we  had  reached,  we 
turned  our  backs  to  the  mountain,  rising  bare 
and  steep  before  us,  and  behold !  the  outlook 
struck  us  dumb. 

There  at  our  feet  lay  the  village,  smothered  in 
orchards  and  shade-trees,  the  locusts,  just  then 
huge  bouquets  of  graceful  bloom  and  delicious 
odor,  buzzing  with  hundreds  of  bees  and  hum- 
ming-birds ;  beyond  was  a  stretch  of  cultivated 
fields  in  various  shades  of  green  and  brown ; 
and  then  the  lake,  —  beautiful  and  wonderful 
Salt  Lake,  —  glowing  with  exquisite  colors,  now 


BEAUTIFUL  SALT  LAKE.  219 

hyacinth  blue,  changing  in  places  to  tender 
green  or  golden  brown,  again  sparkling  like  a 
vast  bed  of  diamonds.  In  the  foreground  lay 
Antelope  Island,  in  hues  of  purple  and  bronze, 
with  its  chain  of  hills  and  graceful  sky-line  ; 
and  resting  on  the  horizon  beyond  were  the 
peaks  of  the  grand  Oquirrhs,  capped  with  snow. 
Well  might  we  forget  our  quest  while  gazing 
on  this  .impressive  scene,  trying  to  fix  its  various 
features  in  our  memories,  to  be  an  eternal  pos- 
session. 

We  were  recalled  to  the  business  in  hand  by 
the  sudden  appearance  on  the  top  of  a  tree  be- 
low us  of  one  of  the  birds  we  sought.  The 
branch  bent  and  swayed  as  the  heavy  fellow 
settled  upon  it,  and  in  a  moment  a  comrade 
came,  calling  vigorously,  and  alighted  on  a 
neighboring  branch.  A  few  minutes  they  re- 
mained, with  flirting  tails,  conversing  in  garru- 
lous tones,  then  together  they  rose  on  broad 
wings,  and  passed  away  —  away  over  the  fields, 
almost  out  of  sight,  before  they  dropped  into  a 
patch  of  oak-brush.  After  them  appeared  others, 
and  we  sat  there  a  long  time,  hoping  to  see  at 
least  one  that  had  its  home  within  our  reach. 
But  every  bird  that  passed  over  turned  its  face 
to  the  mountains ;  some  seemed  to  head  for  the 
dim  Oquirrhs  across  the  lake,  while  others  dis- 
appeared over  the  top  of  the  Wasateh  behind 


220       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

us ;  not  one  paused  in  our  neighborhood,  except- 
ing long  enough  to  look  at  us,  and  express  its 
opinion  in  loud  and  not  very  polite  tones. 

It  was  then  and  there  that  we  noticed  our 
pasture  ;  the  entrance  was  beside  us.  Shall  we 
go  in  ?  was  always  the  question  before  an  in- 
closure.  We  looked  over  the  wall.  It  was 
plainly  the  abode  of  horses,  meek  workaday  be- 
ings, who  certainly  would  not  resent  our  intru- 
sion. Oak-brush  was  there  in  plenty,  and  that 
is  the  chosen  home  of  the  magpie.  We  hesi- 
tated ;  we  started  for  the  gate.  It  was  held  in 
place  by  a  rope  elaborately  and  securely  tied  in 
many  knots ;  but  we  had  learned  something 
about  the  gates  of  this  "  promised  land,"  —  that 
between  the  posts  and  the  stone  wall  may  usu- 
ally be  found  space  enough  to  slip  through 
without  disturbing  the  fastenings. 

In  that  country  no  one  goes  through  a  gate 
who  can  possibly  go  around  it,  and  well  is  it 
indeed  for  the  stranger  and  the  wayfarer  in 
"  Zion  "  that  such  is  the  custom,  for  the  idiosyn- 
crasies of  gates  were  endless  ;  they  agreed  only  in 
never  fitting  their  place  and  never  opening  prop- 
erly. If  the  gate  was  in  one  piece,  it  sagged  so 
that  it  must  be  lifted ;  or  it  had  lost  one  hinge, 
and  fell  over  on  the  rash  individual  who  loos- 
ened the  fastenings ;  or  it  was  about  falling  to 
pieces,  and  must  be  handled  like  a  piece  of 


IDIOSYNCEASIES  OF  GATES.  221 

choice  bric-a-brac.  If  it  had  a  latch,  it  was 
rusty  or  did  not  fit ;  and  if  it  had  not,  it  was 
fastened,  either  by  a  board  slipped  in  to  act  as  a 
bar  and  never  known  to  be  of  proper  size,  or  in 
some  occult  way  which  would  require  the  skill  of 
"  the  lady  from  Philadelphia  "  to  undo.  If  it 
was  of  the  fashion  that  opens  in  the  middle,  each 
individual  gate  had  its  particular  "kink,"  which 
must  be  learned  by  the  uninitiated  before  he  — 
or,  what  is  worse,  she  —  could  pass.  Many  were 
held  together  by  a  hoop  or  link  of  iron,  dropped 
over  the  two  end  posts  ;  but  whether  the  gate 
must  be  pulled  out  or  pushed  in,  and  at  exactly 
what  angle  it  would  consent  to  receive  the  link, 
was  to  be  found  out  only  by  experience. 

But  not  all  gates  were  so  simple  even  as  this : 
the  ingenuity  with  which  a  variety  of  fastenings, 
—  all  to  avoid  the  natural  and  obvious  one  of  a 
hook  and  staple,  —  had  been  evolved  in  the 
rural  mind  was  fairly  startling.  The  energy  and 
thought  that  had  been  bestowed  upon  this  little 
matter  of  avoiding  a  gate-hook  would  have  built 
a  bridge  across  Salt  Lake,  or  tunneled  the  Uin- 
tas  for  an  irrigating  ditch. 

Happily,  we  too  had  learned  to  "  slip  through," 
and  we  passed  the  gate  with  its  rope  puzzle,  and 
the  six  or  eight  horses  who  pointed  inquiring 
ears  toward  their  unwonted  visitors,  and  has- 
tened to  get  under  cover  before  the  birds,  if  any 
lived  there,  should  come  home. 


222       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

The  oak-brash, -which  we  then  approached,  is 
a  curious  and  interesting  form  of  vegetation.  It 
is  a  mass  of  oak-trees,  all  of  the  same  age,  grow- 
ing as  close  as  they  can  stand,  with  branches 
down  to  the  ground.  It  looks  as  if  each  patch 
had  sprung  from  a  great  fall  of  acorns  from  one 
tree,  or  perhaps  were  shoots  from  the  roots  of  a 
perished  tree.  The  clumps  are  more  or  less 
irregularly  round,  set  down  in  a  barren  piece  of 
ground,  or  among  the  sage  bushes.  At  a  dis- 
tance, on  the  side  of  a  mountain,  they  resemble 
patches  of  moss  of  varying  shape.  When  two 
or  three  feet  high,  one  is  a  thick,  solid  mat ; 
when  it  reaches  an  altitude  of  six  to  eight  feet, 
it  is  an  impenetrable  thicket ;  except,  that  is, 
when  it  happens  to  be  in  a  pasture.  Horses 
and  cattle  find  such  scanty  pickings  in  the  fields, 
that  they  nibble  every  green  thing,  even  oak 
leaves,  and  so  they  clear  the  brush  as  high  as 
they  can  reach.  When  therefore  it  is  fifteen 
feet  high,  there  is  a  thick  roof  the  animals  are 
not  able  to  reach,  and  one  may  look  through  a 
patch  to  the  light  beyond.  The  stems  and  lower 
branches,  though  kept  bare  of  leaves,  are  so 
close  together  and  so  intertwined  and  tangled, 
that  forcing  one's  way  through  it  is  an  impos- 
sibility. But  the  horses  have  made  and  kept 
open  paths  in  every  direction,  and  this  turns  it 
into  a  delightful  grove,  a  cool  retreat,  which 
others  appreciate  as  well  as  the  makers. 


A  WISE  AND  CANNY  BIRD.  223 

Selecting  a  favorable-looking  clump  of  oak- 
brush,  we  attempted  to  get  in  without  using  the 
open  horse  paths,  where  we  should  be  in  plain 
sight.  Melancholy  was  the  result ;  hats  pulled 
off,  hair  disheveled,  garments  torn,  feet  tripped, 
and  wounds  and  scratches  innumerable.  Sev- 
eral minutes  of  hard  work  and  stubborn  endur- 
ance enabled  us  to  penetrate  not  more  than  half 
a  dozen  feet,  when  we  managed,  in  some  sort  of 
fashion,  to  sit  down,  on  opposite  sides  of  the 
grove.  Then,  relying  upon  our  "  protective 
coloring"  (not  evolved,  but  carefully  selected 
in  the  shops),  we  subsided  into  silence,  hoping 
not  to  be  observed  when  the  birds  came  home, 
for  there  was  the  nest  before  us. 

A  wise  and  canny  builder  is  Madam  Mag,  for 
though  her  home  must  be  large  to  accommodate 
her  size,  and  conspicuous  because  of  the  shallow- 
ness  of  the  foliage  above  her,  it  is,  in  a  way,  a 
fortress,  to  despoil  which  the  marauder  must  en- 
counter a  weapon  not  to  be  despised,  —  a  stout 
beak,  animated  and  impelled  by  indignant  moth- 
erhood. The  structure  was  made  of  sticks,  and 
enormous  in  size ;  a  half -bushel  measure  would 
hardly  hold  it.  It  was  covered,  as  if  to  protect 
her,  and  it  had  two  openings  under  the  cover, 
toward  either  of  which  she  could  turn  her  face. 
It  looked  like  a  big,  coarsely  woven  basket 
resting  in  a  crotch  up  under  the  leaves,  with  a 


224       BESIDE  THE  GEE  AT  SALT  LAKE. 

nearly  close  cover  supported  by  a  small  branch 
above.  The  sitting  bird  could  draw  herself 
down  out  of  sight,  or  she  could  defend  herself 
and  her  brood,  at  either  entrance. 

In  my  retreat,  I  had  noted  all  these  points 
before  any  sign  of  life  appeared  in  the  brush. 
Then  there  came  a  low  cry  of  "  mag !  mag !  " 
and  the  bird  entered  near  the  ground.  She 
alighted  on  a  dead  branch,  which  swung  back 
and  forth,  while  she  kept  her  balance  with  her 
beautiful  tail.  She  did  not  appear  to  look 
around ;  apparently  she  had  no  suspicions  and 
did  not  notice  us,  sitting  motionless  and  breath- 
less in  our  respective  places.  Her  head  was 
turned  to  the  nest,  and  by  easy  stages  and  with 
many  pauses,  she  made  her  way  to  it.  I  could 
not  see  that  she  had  a  companion,  for  I  dared 
not  stir  so  much  as  a  finger;  but  while  she 
moved  about  near  the  nest  there  came  to  the 
eager  listeners  on  the  ground  low  and  tender 
utterances  in  the  sweetest  of  voices,  —  whether 
one  or  two  I  know  not,  —  and  at  last  a  song,  a 
true  melody,  of  a  yearning,  thrilling  quality 
that  few  song-birds,  if  any,  can  excel.  I  was  as- 
tounded !  Who  would  suspect  the  harsh- voiced, 
screaming  magpie  of  such  notes  !  I  am  certain 
that  the  bird  or  birds  had  no  suspicion  of  listen- 
ers to  the  home  talk  and  song,  for  after  we  were 
discovered,  we  heard  nothing  of  the  sort. 


SHE  DISCOVERED  ME.  225 

This  little  episode  ended,  madam  slipped  into 
her  nest,  and  all  became  silent,  she  in  her  place 
and  I  in  mine.  If  this  state  of  things  could 
only  remain  ;  if  she  would  only  accept  me  as  a 
tree-trunk  or  a  misshapen  bowlder,  and  pay  no 
attention  to  me.  what  a  beautiful  study  I  should 
have !  Half  an  hour,  perhaps  more,  passed 
without  a  sound,  and  then  the  silence  was  broken 
by  magpie  calls  from  without.  The  sitting  bird 
left  the  nest  and  flew  out  of  the  grove,  quite 
near  the  ground  ;  I  heard  much  talk  and  chatter 
in  low  tones  outside,  and  they  flew.  I  slipped 
out  as  quickly  as  possible,  wishing  indeed  that  I 
had  wings  as  she  had,  and  went  home,  encour- 
aged to  think  I  should  really  be  able  to  study 
the  magpie. 

But  I  did  not  know  my  bird.  The  next  day, 
before  I  knew  she  was  about,  she  discovered 
me,  though  it  was  plain  that  she  hoped  I  had 
not  discovered  her.  Instantly  she  became  silent 
and  wary,  coming  to  her  nest  over  the  top  of 
the  trees,  so  quietly  that  I  should  not  have 
known  it  except  for  her  shadow  on  the  leaves. 
No  talk  or  song  now  fell  upon  my  ear ;  calls 
outside  were  few  and  subdued.  Everything  was 
different  from  the  natural  unconsciousness  of 
the  previous  day ;  the  birds  were  on  guard,  and 
henceforth  I  should  be  under  surveillance. 

From  this  moment  I  lost  my  pleasure  in  the 


226       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

study,  for  I  feel  little  interest  in  the  actions  of 
a  bird  under  the  constraint  of  an  unwelcome 
presence,  or  in  the  shadow  of  constant  fear  and 
dread.  What  I  care  to  see  is  the  natural  life, 
the  free,  unstudied  ways  of  birds  who  do  not 
notice  or  are  not  disturbed  by  spectators.  Nor 
have  I  any  pleasure  in  going  about  the  country 
staring  into  every  tree,  and  poking  into  every 
bush,  thrusting  irreverent  hands  into  the  myste- 
ries of  other  lives,  and  rudely  tearing  away  the 
veils  that  others  have  drawn  around  their  pri- 
vate affairs.  That  they  are  only  birds  does  not 
signify  to  me ;  for  me  they  are  fellow-creatures ; 
they  have  rights,  which  I  am  bound  to  respect. 

I  prefer  to  make  myself  so  little  obvious,  or 
so  apparently  harmless  to  a  bird,  that  she  will 
herself  show  me  her  nest,  or  at  least  the  leafy 
screen  behind  which  it  is  hidden.  Then,  if  I 
take  advantage  of  her  absence  to  spy  upon  her 
treasures,  it  is  as  a  friend  only,  —  a  friend  who 
respects  her  desire  for  seclusion,  who  never  lays 
profane  hands  upon  them,  and  who  shares  the 
secret  only  with  one  equally  reverent  and  lov- 
ing. Naturally  I  do  not  find  so  many  nests  as 
do  the  vandals  to  whom  nothing  is  sacred,  but 
I  enjoy  what  I  do  find,  in  a  way  it  hath  not 
entered  into  their  hearts  to  conceive. 

In  spite  of  my  disinclination,  we  made  one 
more  call  upon  the  magpie  family,  and  this  time 


A  MAGPIE  EECEPTION.  227 

we  had  a  reception.  This  bird  is  intelligent 
and  by  no  means  a  slave  to  habit ;  because  he 
has  behaved  in  a  certain  way  once,  there  is  no 
law,  avian  or  divine,  that  compels  him  to  repeat 
that  conduct  on  the  next  occasion.  Nor  is  it 
safe  to  generalize  about  him,  or  any  other  bird 
for  that  matter.  One  cannot  say,  "  The  magpie 
does  thus  and  so,"  because  each  individual  mag- 
pie has  his  own  way  of  doing,  and  circumstances 
alter  cases,  with  birds  as  well  as  with  people. 

On  this  occasion  we  placed  ourselves  boldly, 
though  very  quietly,  in  the  paths  that  run 
through  the  oak-brush.  We  had  abandoned  all 
attempt  at  concealment ;  we  could  hope  only  for 
tolerance.  The  birds  readily  understood ;  they 
appreciated  that  they  were  seen  and  watched, 
and  their  manners  changed  accordingly.  The 
first  one  of  the  black-and-white  gentry  who 
entered  the  grove  discovered  my  comrade,  and 
announced  the  presence  of  the  enemy  by  a  loud 
cry,  in  what  somebody  has  aptly  called  a  "  fron- 
tier tone  of  voice."  Instantly  another  appeared 
and  added  his  remarks ;  then  another,  and  still 
another,  till  within  five  minutes  there  were  ten 
or  twelve  excited  magpies,  shouting  at  the  top  of 
their  voices,  and  hopping  and  flying  about  her 
head,  coming  ever  nearer  and  nearer,  as  if  they 
meditated  a  personal  attack.  I  did  not  really 
fear  it,  but  I  kept  close  watch,  while  remain- 


228       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

ing  motionless,  in  the  hope  that  they  would 
not  notice  me.  Vain  hope !  nothing  could  es- 
cape those  sharp  eyes  when  once  the  bird  was 
aroused.  After  they  had  said  what  they  chose 
to  my  friend,  who  received  the  taunts  and  abuse 
of  the  infuriated  mob  in  meek  silence,  lifting 
not  her  voice  to  reply,  they  turned  the  stream  of 
their  eloquence  upon  me. 

I  was  equally  passive,  for  indeed  I  felt  that 
they  had  a  grievance.  We  have  no  right  to 
expect  birds  to  tell  one  human  being  from 
another,  so  long  as  we,  with  all  our  boasted  in- 
telligence, cannot  tell  one  crow  or  one  magpie 
from  another ;  and  all  the  week  they  had  suffered 
persecution  at  the  hands  of  the  village  boys. 
Young  magpies,  nestlings,  were  in  nearly  every 
house,  and  the  birds  had  endured  pillage,  and 
doubtless  some  of  them  death.  I  did  not  blame 
the  grieved  parents  for  the  reception  they  gave 
us;  from  their  point  of  view  we  belonged  to 
the  enemy. 

After  the  storm  had  swept  by,  and  while  we 
sat  there  waiting  to  see  if  the  birds  would  re- 
turn, one  of  the  horses  of  the  pasture  made  his 
appearance  on  the  side  where  I  sat,  now  eating 
the  top  of  a  rosebush,  now  snipping  off  a  flower 
plant  that  had  succeeded  in  getting  two  leaves 
above  the  ground,  but  at  every  step  coming 
nearer  me.  It  was  plain  that  he  contemplated 


A  MINIATURE  PARADISE.  229 

retiring  to  this  shady  grove,  and,  not  so  observ- 
ing as  the  magpies,  did  not  see  that  it  was  al- 
ready occupied.  When  he  was  not  more  than 
ten  feet  away,  I  snatched  off  my  sun  hat  and 
waved  it  before  him,  not  wishing  to  make  a 
noise.  He  stopped  instantly,  stared  wildly  for 
a  moment,  as  if  he  had  never  seen  such  an 
apparition,  then  wheeled  with  a  snort,  flung  out 
his  heels  in  disrespect,  and  galloped  off  down 
the  field. 

The  incident  was  insignificant,  but  the  result 
was  curious.  So  long  as  we  stayed  in  that  bit 
of  brush,  not  a  horse  attempted  to  enter,  though 
they  all  browsed  around  outside.  They  avoided 
it  as  if  it  were  haunted,  or,  as  my  comrade 
said,  "  filled  with  beckoning  forms."  Nor  was 
that  all ;  I  have  reason  to  think  they  never 
again  entered  that  particular  patch  of  brush,  for, 
some  weeks  after  we  had  abandoned  the  study 
of  magpies  and  the  pasture  altogether,  we  found 
the  spot  transformed,  as  if  by  the  wand  of  en- 
chantment. From  the  burned-up  desert  outside 
we  stepped  at  once  into  a  miniature  paradise, 
to  our  surprise,  almost  our  consternation.  Ex- 
cepting the  footpaths  through'  it,  it  bore  no 
appearance  of  having  ever  been  a  thoroughfare. 
Around  the  foot  of  every  tree  had  grown  up 
clumps  of  ferns  or  brakes,  a  yard  high,  luxu- 
riant, graceful,  and  exquisite  in  form  and  color ; 


230       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

and  peeping  out  from  under  them  were  flowers, 
dainty  wildings  we  had  not  before  seen  there. 
A  bit  of  the  tropics  or  a  gem  out  of  fairyland 
it  looked  to  our  sun  and  sand  weary  eyes.  Out- 
side were  the  burning  sun  of  June,  a  withering 
hot  wind,  and  yellow  and  dead  vegetation; 
within  was  cool  greenness  and  a  mere  rustle  of 
leaves  whispering  of  the  gale.  It  was  the  love- 
liest bit  of  greenery  we  saw  on  the  shores  of 
the  Great  Salt  Lake.  It  was  marvelous  ;  it  was 
almost  uncanny. 

Our  daily  trips  to  the  pasture  had  ceased, 
and  other  birds  and  other  nests  had  occupied 
our  thoughts  for  a  week  or  two,  when  we  re- 
solved to  pay  a  last  visit  to  our  old  haunts,  to 
see  if  we  could  learn  anything  of  the  magpies. 
We  went  through  the  pasture,  led  by  the  voices 
of  the  birds  away  over  to  the  farther  side,  and 
there,  across  another  fenced  pasture,  we  heard 
them  plainly,  calling  and  chattering  and  making 
much  noise,  but  in  different  tones  from  any  we 
had  heard  before.  Evidently  a  magpie  nursery 
had  been  established  over  there.  We  fancied 
we  could  distinguish  maternal  reproof  and  lov- 
ing baby  talk,  beside  the  weaker  voices  of  the 
young,  and  we  went  home  rejoicing  to  believe, 
that  in  spite  of  nest  robbers,  and  the  fright  we 
had  given  them,  some  young  magpies  were  grow- 
ing up  to  enliven  the  world  another  summer. 


XIX. 

THE  SECRET  OF  THE  WILD  ROSE  PATH. 

"Shall  I  call  thee  Bird, 
Or  but  a  wandering  Voice  ?  " 

WORDSWORTH'S  lines  are  addressed  to  the 
cuckoo  of  the  Old  World,  a  bird  of  unenviable 
reputation,  notorious  for  imposing  his  most 
sacred  duties  upon  others ;  naturally,  therefore, 
one  who  would  not  court  observation,  and  whose 
ways  would  be  somewhat  mysterious.  But  the 
American  representative  of  the  family  is  a  bird 
of  different  manners.  Unlike  his  namesake 
across  the  water,  our  cuckoo  never  —  or  so 
rarely  as  practically  to  be  never  —  shirks  the 
labor  of  nest-building  and  raising  a  family.  He 
has  no  reason  to  skulk,  and  though  always  a  shy 
bird,  he  is  no  more  so  than  several  others,  and 
in  no  sense  is  he  a  mystery. 

There  is,  however,  one  American  bird  for 
whom  Wordsworth's  verse  might  have  been 
written ;  one  whose  chief  aim  seems  to  be,  re- 
versing our  grandmothers'  rule  for  little  people, 
to  be  heard,  and  not  seen.  To  be  seen  is,  with 


232       BESIDE  THE  GEEAT  SALT  LAKE. 

this  peculiar  fellow,  a  misfortune,  an  accident, 
which  he  avoids  with  great  care,  while  his  voice 
rings  out  loud  and  clear  above  all  others  in  the 
shrubbery.  I  refer  to  the  yellow-breasted  chat 
(Icteria  virens),  whose  summer  home  is  the 
warmer  temperate  regions  of  our  country,  from 
the  Atlantic  to  the  Pacific  coast,  and  whose 
unbirdlike  utterances  prepare  one  to  believe  the 
stories  told  of  his  eccentric  actions ;  this,  for 
example,  by  Dr.  Abbott :  — 

"  Aloft  in  the  sunny  air  he  springs  ; 

To  his  timid  mate  he  calls  ; 
With  dangling  legs  and  fluttering  wings 
On  the  tangled  smilax  falls ; 
He  mutters,  he  shrieks  — 

A  hopeless  cry  ; 
You  think  that  he  seeks 

In  peace  to  die, 

But  pity  him  not ;  't  is  the  ghostly  chat, 
An  imp  if  there  is  one,  he  sure  of  that." 

I  first  knew  the  chat  —  if  one  may  be  said  to 
know  a  creature  so  shy  —  in  a  spot  I  have  else- 
where described,  a  deserted  park  at  the  foot 
of  Cheyenne  Mountain.  I  became  familiar 
with  his  various  calls  and  cries  (one  can  hardly 
call  them  songs)  ;  I  secured  one  or  two  fleeting 
glimpses  of  his  graceful  form ;  I  sought  and 
discovered  the  nest,  which  thereupon  my  Lady 
Chat  promptly  abandoned,  though  I  had  not 
laid  a  finger  upon  it ;  and  last  of  all,  I  had  tho 


"  THE  GHOSTLY  CHAT."  233 

sorrow  and  shame  of  knowing  that  my  curiosity 
had  driven  the  pair  from  the  neighborhood. 
This  was  the  Western  form  of  Icteria,  differing 
from  the  Eastern  only  in  a  greater  length  of 
tail,  which  several  of  our  Rocky  Mountain  birds 
affect,  for  the  purpose,  apparently,  of  puzzling 
the  ornithologist. 

Two  years  after  my  unsuccessful  attempt  to 
cultivate  friendly  relations  with  "the  ghostly 
chat,"  the  middle  of  May  found  me  on  the  shore 
of  the  Great  Salt  Lake,  where  I  settled  myself 
at  the  foot  of  the  Wasatch  Mountains,  at  that 
point  bare,  gray,  and  unattractive,  showing  miles 
of  loose  bowlders  and  great  patches  of  sage-bush. 
In  the  monotonous  stretches  of  this  shrub,  each 
plant  of  which  looks  exactly  like  every  other, 
dwelt  many  shy  birds,  as  well  hidden  as  bobo- 
links in  the  meadow  grass,  or  meadow-larks  in 
the  alfalfa. 

But  on  this  mountain  side  no  friendly  cover 
existed  from  which  I  could  spy  out  bird  secrets. 
Whatever  my  position,  and  wherever  I  placed 
myself,  I  was  as  conspicuous  as  a  tower  in  the 
middle  of  a  plain  ;  again,  no  shadow  of  protec- 
tion was  there  from  the  too  ardent  sun  of  Utah, 
which  drew  the  vitality  from  my  frame  as  it  did 
the  color  from  my  gown  ;  worse  than  these,  the 
everywhere  present  rocks  were  the  chosen  haunts 
of  the  one  enemy  of  a  peaceful  bird  lover,  the 


234       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

rattlesnake,  and  I  hesitated  to  pursue  the  bird, 
because  I  invariably  forgot  to  watch  and  listen 
for  the  reptile.  Bird  study  under  these  con- 
ditions was  impossible,  but  the  place  presented 
a  phase  of  nature  unfamiliar  to  me,  and  for  a 
time  so  fascinating  that  every  morning  my  steps 
turned  of  themselves  "  up  the  stony  pathway  to 
the  hills." 

The  companion  of  my  walks,  a  fellow  bird- 
student,  was  more  than  fascinated  ;  she  was  en- 
raptured. The  odorous  bush  had  associations 
for  her ;  she  reveled  in  it ;  she  inhaled  its  fra- 
grance as  a  delicious  perfume ;  she  filled  her 
pockets  with  it ;  she  lay  for  hours  at  a  time  on 
the  ground,  where  she  could  bask  in  the  sun- 
shine, and  see  nothing  but  the  gray  leaves  around 
her  and  the  blue  sky  above. 

I  can  hardly  tell  what  was  the  fascination  for 
me.  It  was  certainly  not  the  view  of  the  moun- 
tains, though  mountains  are  beyond  words  in  my 
affections.  The  truth  is,  the  Rocky  Mountains, 
many  of  them,  need  a  certain  distance  to  make 
them  either  picturesque  or  dignified.  The  range 
then  daily  before  our  eyes,  the  Wasatch,  was, 
to  dwellers  at  its  feet,  bleak,  monotonous,  and 
hopelessly  prosaic.  The  lowest  foothills,  being 
near,  hid  the  taller  peaks,  as  a  penny  before  the 
eye  will  hide  a  whole  landscape. 

Let  me  not,  however,  be  unjust  to  the  moun- 


A   WONDERFUL  PICTURE.  235 

tains  I  love.  There  is  a  range  which  satisfies 
my  soul,  and  will  rest  in  my  memory  forever,  a 
beautiful  picture,  or  rather  a  whole  gallery  of 
pictures.  I  can  shut  my  eyes  and  see  it  at  this 
moment,  as  I  have  seen  it  a  thousand  times. 
In  the  early  morning,  when  the  level  sun  shines 
on  its  face,  it  is  like  one  continuous  mountain 
reaching  across  the  whole  western  horizon ;  it 
has  a  broken  and  beautiful  sky  line;  Pike's 
Peak  looms  up  toward  the  middle,  and  lovely 
Cheyenne  ends  it  in  graceful  slope  on  the  south  ; 
lights  and  shadows  play  over  it  ;  its  colors 
change  with  the  changing  sky  or  atmosphere,  — 
sometimes  blue  as  the  heavens,  sometimes  misty 
as  a  dream ;  it  is  wonderfully  beautiful  then. 
But  wait  till  the  sun  gets  higher ;  look  again  at 
noon,  or  a  little  later.  Behold  the  whole  range 
has  sprung  into  life,  separated  into  individuals  ; 
gorges  are  cut  where  none  had  appeared  ;  chasms 
come  to  light ;  canons  and  all  sorts  of  di visions 
are  seen  ;  foothills  move  forward  to  their  proper 
places,  and  taller  peaks  turn  at  angles  to  each 
other ;  shapes  and  colors  that  one  never  sus- 
pected come  out  in  the  picture :  the  transfor- 
mation is  marvelous.  But  the  sun  moves  on, 
the  magical  moment  passes,  each  mountain  slips 
back  into  line,  and  behold,  you  see  again  the 
morning's  picture. 

Indulge  me  one  moment,  while  I  try  to  show 


236       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

you  the  last  picture  impressed  ujjon  my  memory 
as  the  train  bore  me,  unwilling,  away.  It  was 
cloudy,  a  storm  was  coming  up,  and  the  whole 
range  was  in  deep  shadow,  when  suddenly 
through  some  rift  in  the  clouds  a  burst  of  sun- 
shine fell  upon  the  "  beloved  mountain  "  Chey- 
enne, and  upon  it  alone.  In  a  moment  it  was 

a  smiling  picture, 

"  Glad 
With  light  as  with  a  garment  it  was  clad ;  " 

all  its  inequalities,  its  divisions,  its  irregulari- 
ties emphasized,  its  greens  turned  greener,  its 
reds  made  more  glowing,  —  an  unequaled  gem 
for  a  parting  gift. 

To  come  back  to  Utah.  One  morning,  on 
our  way  up  to  the  heights,  as  we  were  passing  a 
clump  of  oak-brush,  a  bird  cry  rang  out.  The 
voice  was  loud  and  clear,  and  the  notes  were  of 
a  peculiar  character  :  first  a  "  chack "  two  or 
three  times  repeated,  then  subdued  barks  like 
those  of  a  distressed  puppy,  followed  by  hoarse 
"  mews "  and  other  sounds  suggesting  almost 
any  creature  rather  than  one  in  feathers.  But 
with  delight  I  recognized  the  chat ;  my  enthu- 
siasm instantly  revived.  I  unfolded  my  camp 
chair,  placed  myself  against  a  stone  wall  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  road,  and  became  silent  and 
motionless  as  the  wall  itself. 

My  comrade,  on   the   contrary,  as   was   her 


THE  CHAT 8   VOCABULARY.  237 

custom,  proceeded  with  equal  promptness  to 
follow  the  bird'  up,  to  hunt  him  out.  She 
slipped  between  the  barbed  wires  which,  quite 
unnecessarily,  one  would  suppose,  defended  the 
bleak  pasture  from  outside  encroachment,  and 
passed  out  of  sight  down  an  obscure  path  that 
led  into  the  brush  where  the  bird  was  hidden. 
Though  our  ways  differ,  or  rather,  perhaps,  be- 
cause our  ways  differ,  we  are  able  to  study  in 
company.  Certainly  this  circumstance  proved 
available  in  circumventing  the  wily  chat,  and 
that  happened  which  had  happened  before :  in 
fleeing  from  one  who  made  herself  obvious  to 
him,  he  presented  himself,  an  unsuspecting  vic- 
tim, to  another  who  sat  like  a  statue  against  the 
wall.  To  avoid  his  pursuer,  the  bird  slipped 
through  the  thick  foliage  of  the  low  oaks,  and 
took  his  place  on  the  outside,  in  full  view  of  me, 
but  looking  through  the  branches  at  the  move- 
ments within  so  intently  that  he  never  turned 
his  eyes  toward  me.  This  gave  me  an  opportu- 
nity to  study  his  manners  that  is  rare  indeed, 
for  a  chat  off  his  guard  is  something  incon- 
ceivable. 

He  shouted  out  his  whole  repertoire  (or  so  it 
seemed)  with  great  vehemence,  now  "  peeping  " 
like  a  bird  in  the  nest,  then  "  chacking  "  like  a 
blackbird,  mewing  as  neatly  as  pussy  herself, 
and  varying  these  calls  by  the  rattling  of  cas- 


238       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

tanets  and  other  indescribable  sounds.  His 
perch  was  half  way  down  the  bush ;  his  trim 
olive-drab  back  and  shining  golden  breast  were 
in  their  spring  glory,  and  he  stood  nearly 
upright  as  he  sang,  every  moment  stretching 
up  to  look  for  the  invader  behind  the  leaves. 
The  instant  she  appeared  outside,  he  vanished 
within,  and  I  folded  my  chair  and  passed  on. 
His  disturber  had  not  caught  a  glimpse  of  him. 

My  next  interview  with  a  chat  took  place  a 
day  or  two  later.  Between  the  cottage  which 
was  our  temporary  home  and  the  next  one  was  a 
narrow  garden  bordered  by  thick  hedges,  rasp- 
berry bushes  down  each  side,  and  a  mass  of 
flowering  shrubs  next  the  street.  From  my  seat 
within  the  house,  a  little  back  from  the  open 
window,  I  was  startled  by  the  voice  of  a  chat 
close  at  hand.  Looking  cautiously  out,  I  saw 
him  in  the  garden,  foraging  about  under  cover 
of  the  bushes,  near  the  ground,  and  there  for 
some  time  I  watched  him.  He  had  not  the 
slightest  repose  of  manner ;  the  most  ill-bred 
tramp  in  the  English  sparrow  family  was  in 
that  respect  his  superior,  and  the  most  nervous 
and  excitable  of  wrens  could  not  ^outdo  him  in 
posturing,  jerking  himself  up,  flirting  his  tail, 
and  hopping  from  twig  to  twig.  When  musi- 
cally inclined,  he  perched  on  the  inner  side  of 
the  bushes  against  the  front  fence,  a  foot  or  two 


THE  CHATS  SEC  BET.  239 

above  the  ground,  and  within  three  feet  of  any 
one  who  might  pass,  but  perfectly  hidden. 

The  performance  of  the  chat  was  exceedingly 
droll ;  first  a  whistle,  clear  as  an  oriole  note, 
followed  by  chacks  that  would  deceive  a  red- 
wing himself,  and  then,  oddest  of  all,  the  laugh 
of  a  feeble  old  man,  a  weak  sort  of  "  yah  !  yah  ! 
yah !  "  If  I  had  not  seen  him  in  the  act,  I 
could  not  have  believed  the  sound  came  from  a 
bird's  throat.  He  concluded  with  a  low,  almost 
whispered  "  chur-r-r,"  a  sort  of  private  chuckle 
over  his  unique  exhibition.  After  a  few  min- 
utes' singing  he  returned  to  his  foraging  on  the 
ground,  or  over  the  lowest  twigs  of  the  bushes, 
all  the  time  bubbling  over  with  low  joyous  notes, 
his  graceful  head  thrown  up,  and  his  beautiful 
golden  throat  swelling  with  the  happy  song. 
The  listener  and  looker  behind  the  screen  was 
charmed  to  absolute  quiet,  and  the  bird  so  ut- 
terly unsuspicious  of  observers  that  he  was  per- 
fectly natural  and  at  his  ease,  hopping  quickly 
from  place  to  place,  and  apparently  snatching 
his  repast  between  notes. 

The  chat's  secret  of  invisibility  was  thus 
plainly  revealed.  It  is  not  in  his  protective 
coloring,  for  though  his  back  is  modest  of  hue, 
his  breast  is  conspicuously  showy  ;  nor  is  it  in  his 
size,  for  he  is  almost  as  large  as  an  oriole ;  it  ia 
in  his  manners.  The  bird  I  was  watching  never 


240        BESIDE  THE  GEEAT  SALT  LAKE. 

approached  the  top  of  a  shrub,  but  invariably 
perched  a  foot  or  more  below  it,  and  his  move- 
ments, though  quick,  were  silence  itself.  No 
rustle  of  leaves  proclaimed  his  presence  ;  indeed, 
he  seemed  to  avoid  leaves,  using  the  outside 
twigs  near  the  main  stalk  or  trunk,  where  they 
are  usually  quite  bare,  and  no  flit  of  wing  or 
tail  gave  warning  of  his  change  of  position. 
There  was  a  seemingly  natural  wariness  and 
cautiousness  in  every  movement  and  attitude, 
that  I  never  saw  equaled  in  feathers. 

Then,  too,  the  clever  fellow  was  so  constantly 
on  his  guard  and  so  alert  that  the  least  stir  at- 
tracted his  attention.  Though  inside  the  house, 
as  I  said,  not  near  the  window,  and  further 
veiled  by  screens,  I  had  to  remain  as  nearly 
motionless  as  possible,  and  use  my  glass  with 
utmost  caution.  The  smallest  movement  sent 
him  into  the  bushes  like  a  shot,  —  or  rather, 
like  a  shadow,  for  the  passage  was  always  noise- 
less. Suspicion  once  aroused,  the  bird  simply 
disappeared.  One  could  not  say  of  him,  as  of 
others,  that  he  flew,  for  whether  he  used  his 
wings,  or  melted  away,  or  sank  into  the  earth,  it 
would  be  hard  to  tell.  All  I  can  be  positive 
about  is,  that  whereas  one  moment  he  was  there, 
the  next  he  was  gone. 

After  this  exhibition  of  the  character  of  the 
chat,  his  constant  watchfulness,  his  distrust,  his 


BEWITCHED  AGAIN.  241 

love  of  mystery,  it  may  appear  strange  that  I 
should  try  again  to  study  him  at  home,  to  find  his 
nest  and  see  his  family.  But  there  is  something 
so  bewitching  in  his  individuality,  that,  though 
I  may  be  always  baffled,  I  shall  never  be  dis- 
couraged. Somewhat  later,  when  it  was  evident 
that  his  spouse  had  arrived  and  domestic  life  had 
begun,  and  I  became  accustomed  to  hearing  a 
chat  in  a  certain  place  every  day  as  I  passed,  I 
resolved  to  make  one  more  effort  to  win  his  con- 
fidence, or,  if  not  that,  at  least  his  tolerance. 

The  chat  medley  for  which  I  was  always  lis- 
tening came  invariably  from  one  spot  on  my 
pathway  up  the  mountain.  It  was  the  lower  end 
of  a  large  horse  pasture,  and  near  the  entrance 
stood  a  small  brick  house,  in  which  no  doubt 
dwelt  the  owner,  or  care-taker,  of  the  animals. 
The  wide  gate,  in  a  common  fashion  of  that 
country,  opened  in  the  middle,  and  was  fastened 
by  a  link  of  iron  which  dropped  over  the  two 
centre  posts.  The  rattle  of  the  iron  as  I  touched 
it,  on  the  morning  I  resolved  to  go  in,  brought 
to  the  door  a  woman.  She  was  rather  young, 
with  hair  cut  close  to  her  head,  and  wore  a  dark 
cotton  gown,  which  was  short  and  scant  of  skirt, 
and  covered  with  a  "  checked  apron."  She  was 
evidently  at  work,  and  was  probably  the  mistress, 
since  few  in  that  "working-bee"  village  kept 
maids. 


242       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

I  made  my  request  to  go  into  the  pasture  to 
look  at  the  birds. 

"  Why,  certainly,"  she  said,  with  a  courtesy 
that  I  have  found  everywhere  in  Utah,  though 
with  a  slow  surprise  growing  in  her  face.  "  Come 
right  in." 

I  closed  and  fastened  the  gate,  and  started  on 
past  her.  Three  feet  beyond  the  doorsteps  I  was 
brought  to  a  standstill :  the  ground  as  far  as  I 
could  see  was  water- soaked ;  it  was  like  a  satu- 
rated sponge.  Utah  is  dominated  by  Irrigation  ; 
she  is  a  slave  to  her  water  supply.  One  going 
there  from  the  land  of  rains  has  much  to  learn 
of  the  possibilities  and  the  inconveniences  of 
water.  I  was  always  stumbling  upon  it  in  new 
combinations  and  unaccustomed  places,  and  I 
never  could  get  used  to  its  vagaries.  Books 
written  in  the  interest  of  the  Territory  indulge 
in  rhapsodies  over  the  fact  that  every  man  is  his 
own  rain-maker ;  and  I  admit  that  the  arrange- 
ment has  its  advantages  —  to  the  cultivator.  But 
judging  from  the  standpoint  of  an  outsider,  I 
should  say  that  man  is  not  an  improvement  upon 
the  original  providence  which  distributes  the  staff 
of  life  to  plants  elsewhere,  spreading  the  vital 
fluid  over  the  whole  land,  so  evenly  that  every 
grass  blade  gets  its  due  share ;  and  as  all  parts 
are  wet  at  once,  so  all  are  dry  at  the  same  time, 
and  the  surplus,  if  there  be  any,  runs  in  well- 


AL  FRESCO  HOUSEKEEPING.  243 

appointed  ways,  with  delight  to  both  eye  and  ear. 
All  this  is  changed  when  the  office  of  Jupiter 
Pluvius  devolves  upon  man;  different  indeed  are 
his  methods.  A  man  turns  a  stream  loose  in 
a  field  or  pasture,  and  it  wanders  whither  it  will 
over  the  ground.  The  grass  hides  it,  and  the 
walker,  bird-student  or  botanist,  steps  splash 
into  it  without  the  slightest  warning.  This  is 
always  unpleasant,  and  is  sometimes  disastrous, 
as  when  one  attempts  to  cross  the  edge  of  a  field 
of  some  close-growing  crop,  and  instantly  sinks 
to  the  top  of  the  shoes  in  the  soft  mud. 

On  the  morning  spoken  of,  I  stopped  before 
the  barrier,  considering  how  I  should  pass  it, 
when  the  woman  showed  me  a  narrow  passage 
between  the  house  and  the  stone  wall,  through 
which  I  could  reach  the  higher  ground  at  the 
back.  I  took  this  path,  and  in  a  moment  was  in 
the  grove  of  young  oaks  which  made  her  out-of- 
doors  kitchen  and  yard.  A  fire  was  burning 
merrily  in  the  stove,  which  stood  under  a  tree ; 
frying-pans  and  baking-tins,  dippers  and  dish- 
cloths, hung  on  the  outer  wall  of  her  little  house, 
and  the  whole  had  a  camping-out  air  that  was 
captivating,  and  possible  only  in  a  rainless  land. 
I  longed  to  linger  and  study  this  open-air  house- 
keeping ;  if  that  woman  had  only  been  a  bird ! 

But  I  passed  on  through  the  oak-grove  back 
yard,  following  a  path  the  horses  had  made,  till 


244       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

I  reached  an  open  place  where  I  could  overlook 
the  lower  land,  filled  with  clumps  of  willows  with 
their  feet  in  the  water,  and  rosebushes 

"  O'erburdened  with  their  weight  of  flowers, 
And  drooping  'neath  their  own  sweet  scent." 

A  bird  was  singing  as  I  took  my  seat,  a  gros- 
beak, —  perhaps  the  one  who  had  entertained  me 
in  the  field  below,  while  I  had  waited  hour  after 
hour  for  his  calm-eyed  mate  to  point  out  her 
nest.  He  sang  there  from  the  top  of  a  tall  tree, 
and  she  busied  herself  in  the  low  bushes,  but  up 
to  that  time  they  had  kept  their  secret  well.  He 
was  a  beautiful  bird,  in  black  and  orange-brown 
and  gold,  —  the  black-headed  grosbeak ;  and  his 
song,  besides  being  very  pleasing,  was  interest- 
ing because  it  seemed  hard  to  get  out.  It  was 
as  if  he  had  conceived  a  brilliant  and  beautiful 
strain,  and  found  himself  unable  to  execute  it. 
But  if  he  felt  the  incompleteness  of  his  perform- 
ance as  I  did,  he  did  not  let  it  put  an  end  to  his 
endeavor.  I  sat  there  listening,  and  he  came 
nearer,  even  to  a  low  tree  over  my  head ;  and  as 
I  had  a  glimpse  or  two  of  his  mate  in  a  tangle 
of  willow  and  roses  far  out  in  the  wet  land,  I 
concluded  he  was  singing  to  her,  and  not  to  me. 
Now  that  he  was  so  near,  I  heard  more  than  I 
had  before,  certain  low,  sweet  notes,  plainly  not 
intended  for  the  public  ear.  This  undertone 
song  ended  always  in  "  sweet !  sweet !  sweet  I  " 


VAGARIES  OF  IRRIGATION.  245 

usually  followed  by  a  trill,  and  was  far  more- 
effective  than  his  state  performances.  Some- 
times, after  the  "  sweet  "  repeated  half  a  dozen 
times,  each  note  lower  than  the  preceding  one, 
he  ended  with  a  sort  of  purr  of  contentment. 

I  became  so  absorbed  in  listening  that  I  had 
almost  forgotten  the  object  of  my  search,  but  I 
was  suddenly  recalled  by  a  loud  voice  at  one 
side,  and  the  lively  genius  of  the  place  was  on 
hand  in  his  usual  role.  Indeed,  he  rather  sur- 
passed himself  in  mocking  and  taunting  cries 
that  morning,  either  because  he  wished,  as  my 
host,  to  entertain  me,  or,  what  was  more  prob- 
able, to  reproach  me  for  disturbing  the  serenity 
of  his  life.  Whatever  might  have  been  his  mo- 
tive, he  delighted  me,  as  always,  by  the  spirit 
and  vigor  with  which  he  poured  out  his  chacks 
and  whistles  and  rattles  and  calls.  Then  I  tried 
to  locate  him  by  following  up  the  sound,  picking 
my  way  through  the  bushes,  and  among  the  strag- 
gling arms  of  the  irrigating  stream.  After  some 
experiments,  I  discovered  that  he  was  most  con- 
cerned when  I  came  near  an  impenetrable  tangle 
that  skirted  the  lower  end  of  the  lot.  I  say 
"near:"  it  was  near  "as  the  crow  flies,"  but 
for  one  without  wings  it  may  have  been  half  a 
mile  ;  for  between  me  and  that  spot  was  a  great 
gulf  fixed,  the  rallying  point  of  the  most  erratic? 
of  wandering  streamlets,  and  so  given  over  to  its 


246       BESIDE  THE  GEE  AT  SALT  LAKE. 

vagaries  that  no  bird-gazer,  however  enthusias- 
tic, and  indifferent  to  wet  feet  and  draggled  gar- 
ments, dared  attempt  to  pass.  There  I  was  forced 
to  pause,  while  the  bird  flung  out  his  notes  as  if 
in  defiance,  wilder,  louder,  and  more  vehement 
than  ever. 

In  that  thicket,  I  said  to  myself,  as  I  took  my 
way  home,  behind  that  tangle,  if  I  can  manage  to 
reach  it,  I  shall  find  the  home  of  the  chat.  The 
situation  was  discouraging,  but  I  was  not  to  be 
discouraged;  to  reach  that  stronghold  I  was 
resolved,  if  I  had  to  dam  up  the  irrigator,  build 
a  bridge,  or  fill  up  the  quagmire. 

No  such  heroic  treatment  of  the  difficulty  was 
demanded  ;  my  problem  was  very  simply  solved. 
As  I  entered  the  gate  the  next  morning,  my 
eyes  fell  upon  an  obscure  footpath  leading  away 
from  the  house  and  the  watery  way  beyond  it, 
down  through  overhanging  wild  roses,  and  under 
the  great  tangle  in  which  the  chat  had  hidden. 
It  looked  mysterious,  not  to  say  forbidding,  and, 
from  the  low  drooping  of  the  foliage  above,  it 
was  plainly  a  horse  path,  not  a  human  way. 
But  it  was  undoubtedly  the  key  to  the  secrets 
of  the  tangle,  and  I  turned  into  it  without  hesi- 
tation. Stooping  under  the  branches  hanging 
low  with  their  fragrant  burden,  and  stopping 
every  moment  to  loosen  the  hold  of  some  hin- 
dering thorn,  I  followed  in  the  footsteps  of  my 


AN  ENCHANTING  NOOK.  247 

four-footed  pioneers  till  I  reached  the  lower  end 
of  the  marsh  that  had  kept  me  from  entering  on 
the  upper  side.  On  its  edge  I  placed  my  chair 
and  seated  myself. 

It  was  an  ideal  retreat ;  within  call  if  help 
were  needed,  yet  a  solitude  it  was  plain  no  hu- 
man being,  in  that  land  where  (according  to  the 
Prophet)  every  man,  woman,  and  child  is  a 
working  bee,  ever  invaded  ; 

"  A  leafy  nook 
Where  wind  never  entered,  nor  branch  ever  shook," 

known  only  to  my  equine  friends  and  to  me.  I 
exulted  in  it !  No  discoverer  of  a  new  land,  no 
stumbler  upon  a  gold  mine,  was  ever  more  ex- 
hilarated over  his  find  than  I  over  my  solitary 
wild  rose  path. 

The  tangle  was  composed  of  a  varied  growth. 
There  seemed  to  have  been  originally  a  strag- 
gling row  of  low  trees,  chokecherry,  peach, 
and  willow,  which  had  been  surrounded,  over- 
whelmed, and  almost  buried  by  a  rich  growth 
of  shoots  from  their  own  roots,  bound  and  ce- 
mented together  by  the  luxuriant  wild  rose  of 
the  West,  which  grows  profusely  everywhere  it 
can  get  a  foothold,  stealing  up  around  and  be- 
tween the  branches,  till  it  overtops  and  fairly 
smothers  in  blossoms  a  fair-sized  oak  or  other 
tree.  Besides  these  were  great  ferns,  or  brakes, 
three  or  four  feet  high,  which  filled  up  the  edges 


248       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

of  the  thicket,  making  it  absolutely  impervious 
to  the  eye,  as  well  as  to  the  foot  of  any  straggler. 
Except  in  the  obscure  passages  the  horses  kept 
open,  no  person  could  penetrate  my  jungle. 

I  had  hardly  placed  myself,  and  I  had  not 
noted  half  of  these  details,  when  it  became 
evident  that  my  presence  disturbed  somebody. 
A  chat  cried  out  excitedly,  "  chack  !  chack  ! 
whe-e-w !  "  whereupon  there  followed  an  angry 
squawk,  so  loud  and  so  near  that  it  startled  me. 
I  turned  quickly,  and  saw  madam  herself,  all 
ruffled  as  if  from  the  nest.  She  was  plainly  as 
much  startled  as  I  was,  but  she  scorned  to  flee. 
She  perked  up  her  tail  till  she  looked  like  an 
exaggerated  wren ;  she  humped  her  shoulders ; 
she  turned  this  way  and  that,  showing  in  every 
movement  her  anger  at  my  intrusion ;  above  all, 
she  repeated  at  short  intervals  that  squawk,  like 
an  enraged  hen.  Hearing  a  rustle  of  wings  on 
the  other  side,  I  turned  my  eyes  an  instant,  and 
when  I  looked  again  she  had  gone  !  She  would 
not  run  while  I  looked  at  her,  but  she  had  the 
true  chat  instinct  of  keeping  out  of  sight. 

She  did  not  desert  her  grove,  however.  The 
canopy  over  my  head,  the  roof  to  my  retreat, 
was  of  green  leaves,  translucent,  almost  trans- 
parent. The  sun  was  the  sun  of  Utah ;  it  cast 
strong  shadows,  and  not  a  bird  could  move  with- 
out my  seeing  it.  I  could  see  that  she  remained 


MADAM  ON  GUARD.  249 

on  guard,  hopping  and  flying  silently  from  one 
point  of  view  to  another,  no  doubt  keeping  close 
watch  of  me  all  the  time. 

Meanwhile  tne  chat  himself  had  not  for  a 
moment  ceased  calling.  For  some  time  his  voice 
would  sound  quite  near  ;  then  it  would  draw  off, 
growing  more  and  more  distant,  as  if  he  were 
tired  of  watching  one  who  did  absolutely  nothing. 
But  he  never  got  far  away  before  madam  recalled 
him,  sometimes  by  the  squawk  alone,  sometimes 
preceding  it  by  a  single  clear  whistle,  exactly  in 
his  own  tone.  At  once,  as  if  this  were  a  signal, 
—  which  doubtless  it  was,  —  his  cries  redoubled 
in  energy,  and  seemed  to  come  nearer  again. 

Above  the  restless  demonstrations  of  the  chats 
I  could  hear  the  clear,  sweet  song  of  the  West- 
ern meadow-lark  in  the  next  field.  Well  indeed 
might  his  song  be  serene ;  the  minstrel  of  the 
meadow  knew  perfectly  well  that  his  nest  and 
nestlings  were  as  safely  hidden  in  the  middle 
of  the  growing  lucern  as  if  in  another  planet ; 
while  the  chat,  on  the  contrary,  was  plainly 
conscious  of  the  ease  with  which  his  homestead 
might  be  discovered.  A  ruthless  destroyer,  a 
nest -robbing  boy,  would  have  had  the  whole 
thing  in  his  pocket  days  ago.  Even  I,  if  I  had 
not  preferred  to  have  the  owners  show  it  to  me  j 
if  I  had  not  made  excuses  to  myself,  of  the 
marsh,  of  bushes  too  low  to  go  under  ;  if  I  had 


250       BESIDE  THE  GEE  AT  SALT  LAKE. 

not  hated  to  take  it  by  force,  to  frighten  the 
little  folk  I  wished  to  make  friends  with, — 
even  I  might  have  seen  the  nest  long  before  that 
morning.  Thus  I  meditated  as,  after  waiting  an 
hour  or  two,  I  started  for  home. 

Outside  the  gate  I  met  my  fellow-student,  and 
we  went  on  together.  Our  way  lay  beside  an  old 
orchard  that  we  had  often  noticed  in  our  walks. 
The  trees  were  not  far  apart,  and  so  overgrown 
that  they  formed  a  deep  shade,  like  a  heavy 
forest,  which  was  most  attractive  when  every- 
thing outside  was  baking  in  the  June  sun.  It 
was  nearly  noon  when  we  reached  the  gate,  and 
looking  into  a  place 

"  So  curtained  with  trunks  and  boughs 
That  in  hours  when  the  ringdove  cooes  to  his  spouse 
The  sun  to  its  heart  scarce  a  way»could  win," 

we  could  not  resist  its  inviting  coolness ;  we 
went  in. 

As  soon  as  we  were  quiet,  we  noticed  that 
there  were  more  robins  than  we  had  heretofore 
seen  in  one  neighborhood  in  that  part  of  the 
world;  for  our  familiar  bird  is  by  no  means 
plentiful  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  countries, 
where  grassy  lawns  are  rare,  and  his  chosen 
food  is  not  forthcoming.  The  old  apple-trees 
seemed  to  be  a  favorite  nesting-place,  and  be- 
fore we  had  been  there  five  minutes  we  saw 
that  there  were  at  least  two  nests  within  fifty 


THE  SERPENT  IN  THE  EDEN.          251 

feet  of  us,  and  a  grosbeak  singing  his  love  song, 
so  near  that  we  had  hopes  of  finding  his  home, 
also,  in  this  secluded  nook. 

The  alighting  of  a  bird  low  down  on  the 
trunk  of  a  tree,  perhaps  twenty  feet  away, 
called  the  attention  of  my  friend  to  a  neighbor 
we  had  not  counted  upon,  a  large  snake,  with, 
as  we  noted  with  horror,  the  color  and  markings 
of  the  dreaded  rattler.  He  had,  as  it  seemed, 
started  to  climb  one  of  the  leaning  trunks,  and 
when  he  had  reached  a  point  where  the  trunk 
divided  into  two  parts,  his  head  about  two  feet 
up,  and  the  lower  part  of  his  body  still  on  the 
ground,  had  stopped,  and  now  rested  thus,  mo- 
tionless as  the  tree  itself.  It  may  be  that  it  was 
the  sudden  presence  of  his  hereditary  enemy 
that  held  him  apparently  spellbound,  or  it"  is 
possible  that  this  position  served  his  own  pur- 
poses better  than  any  other.  Our  first  impulse 
was  to  leave  his  lordship  in  undisputed  pos- 
session of  his  shady  retreat ;  but  the  second 
thought,  which  held  us,  was  to  see  what  sort  of 
reception  the  robins  would  give  him.  There 
was  a  nest  full  of  young  on  a  neighboring  tree, 
and  it  was  the  mother  who  had  come  down  to 
interview  the  foe.  Would  she  call  her  mate  ? 
Would  the  neighbors  come  to  the  rescue? 
Should  we  see  a  fight,  such  as  we  had  read  of  ? 
We  decided  to  wait  for  the  result. 


252       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

Strange  to  say,  however,  this  little  mother  did 
not  call  for  help.  Not  one  of  the  loud,  disturbed 
cries  with  which  robins  greet  an  innocent  bird- 
student  or  a  passing  sparrow  hawk  was  heard 
from  her;  though  her  kinsfolk  sprinkled  the 
orchard,  she  uttered  not  a  sound.  For  a  moment 
she  seemed  dazed ;  she  stood  motionless,  staring 
at  the  invader  as  if  uncertain  whether  he  were 
alive.  Then  she  appeared  to  be  interested ;  she 
came  a  little  nearer,  still  gazing  into  the  face 
of  her  enemy,  whose  erect  head  and  glittering 
eyes  were  turned  toward  her.  We  could  not 
see  that  he  made  the  slightest  movement,  while 
she  hopped  nearer  and  nearer ;  sometimes  on 
one  division  of  the  trunk,  and  sometimes  on  the 
other,  but  always,  with  every  hop,  coming  a  lit- 
tle nearer.  She  did  not  act  frightened  nor  at 
all  anxious ;  she  simply  seemed  interested,  and 
inclined  to  close  investigation.  Was  she  fasci- 
nated? Were  the  old  stories  of  snake  power 
over  birds  true  ?  Our  interest  was  most  intense ; 
we  did  not  take  our  eyes  from  her;  nothing 
could  have  dragged  us  away  then. 

Suddenly  the  bird  flew  to  the  ground,  and,  so 
quickly  that  we  did  not  see  the  movement,  the 
head  of  the  snake  was  turned  over  toward  her, 
proving  that  it  was  the  bird,  and  not  us,  he  was 
watching.  Still  she  kept  drawing  nearer  till 
she  was  not  more  than  a  foot  from  him,  when  our 


AN  EXCITING  SCENE.  253 

sympathy  with  the  unfortunate  creature,  who 
apparently  was  unable  to  tear  herself  away,  over- 
came our  scientific  curiosity.  "  Poor  thing,  she  '11 
be  killed  !  Let  us  drive  her  away !  "  we  cried. 
We  picked  up  small  stones  which  we  threw 
toward  her ;  we  threatened  her  with  sticks ;  we 
"  shooed  "  at  her  with  demonstrations  that  would 
have  quickly  driven  away  a  robin  in  possession 
of  its  senses.  Not  a  step  farther  off  did  she 
move  ;  she  hopped  one  side  to  avoid  our  mis- 
siles, but  instantly  fluttered  back  to  her  doom. 
Meanwhile  her  mate  appeared  upon  the  scene, 
hovering  anxiously  about  in  the  trees  overhead, 
but  not  coming  near  the  snake. 

By  this  time  we  had  lost  all  interest  in  the 
question  whether  a  snake  can  charm  a  bird  to  its 
destruction ;  we  thought  only  of  saving  the  little 
life  in  such  danger.  We  looked  around  for 
help ;  my  friend  ran  across  the  street  to  a  house, 
hurriedly  secured  the  help  of  a  man  with  a  heavy 
stick,  and  in  two  minutes  the  snake  lay  dead  on 
the  ground. 

The  bird,  at  once  relieved,  flew  hastily  to  her 
nest,  showing  no  signs  of  mental  aberration,  or 
any  other  effect  of  the  strain  she  had  been  under. 
The  snake  was  what  the  man  called  a  "bull 
snake,"  and  so  closely  resembled  the  rattler  in 
color  and  markings  that,  although  its  extermi- 
nator had  killed  many  of  the  more  famous  rep- 


254       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

tiles,  lie  could  not  tell,  until  it  was  stretched  out 
in  death,  which  of  the  two  it  was.  This  tragedy 
spoiled  the  old  orchard  for  me,  and  never  again 
did  I  enter  its  gates. 

Down  the  wild  rose  path  I  took  my  way  the 
next  morning.  Silently  and  quickly  I  gained 
my  seat  of  yesterday,  hoping  to  surprise  the  chat 
family.  No  doubt  my  hope  was  vain ;  noiseless, 
indeed,  and  deft  of  movement  must  be  the  hu- 
man being  who  could  come  upon  this  alert  bird 
unawares.  He  greeted  me  with  a  new  note,  a 
single  clear  call,  like  "  ho !  "  Then  he  proceeded 
to  study  me,  coming  cautiously  nearer  and  nearer, 
as  I  could  see  out  of  the  corner  of  my  eye,  while 
pretending  to  be  closely  occupied  with  my  note- 
book. His  loud  notes  had  ceased,  but  it  is  not 
in  chat  nature  to  be  utterly  silent ;  many  low 
sounds  dropped  from  his  beak  as  he  approached. 
Sometimes  it  was  a  squawk,  a  gentle  imitation 
of  that  which  rang  through  the  air  from  the 
mouth  of  his  spouse ;  again  it  was  a  hoarse  sort 
of  mewing,  followed  by  various  indescribable 
sounds  in  the  same  undertone ;  and  then  he 
would  suddenly  take  himself  in  hand,  and  be 
perfectly  silent  for  half  a  minute. 

After  a  little,  madam  took  up  the  matter,  ut- 
tering her  angry  squawk,  and  breaking  upon 
my  silence  almost  like  a  pistol  shot.  At  once  I 
forgot  her  mate,  and  though  he  retired  to  a  little 


/  AM  INTERVIEWED.  255 

distance  and  resumed  his  brilliant  musical  per- 
formance, I  did  not  turn  my  head  at  his  beguile- 
ments.  She  was  the  business  partner  of  the  firm 
whose  movements  I  wished  to  follow.  She  must, 
sooner  or  later,  go  to  her  nest,  while  he  might 
deceive  me  for  days.  Indeed,  I  strongly  sus- 
pected him  of  that  very  thing,  and  whenever  he 
became  bolder  in  approaching,  or  louder  and 
more  vociferous  of  tongue,  I  was  convinced  that 
it  was  to  cover  her  operations.  I  redoubled  my 
vigilance  in  watching  for  her,  keeping  my  eyes 
open  for  any  slight  stirring  of  a  twig,  tremble  of 
a  leaf,  or  quick  shadow  near  the  ground  that 
should  point  her  out  as  she  skulked  to  her  nest. 
I  had  already  observed  that  whenever  she  uttered 
her  squawks  he  instantly  burst  into  energetic 
shouts  and  calls.  I  believed  it  a  concerted  ac- 
tion, with  the  intent  of  drawing  my  attention 
from  her  movements. 

On  this  day  the  disturbed  little  mother  her- 
self interviewed  me.  First  she  came  silently 
under  the  green  canopy,  in  plain  sight,  stood  a 
moment  before  me,  jerking  up  her  beautiful  long 
tail  and  letting  it  drop  slowly  back,  and  posing 
her  mobile  body  in  different  positions  ;  then  sud- 
denly flying  close  past  me,  she  alighted  on  one 
side,  and  stared  at  me  for  half  a  dozen  seconds. 
Then,  evidently,  she  resolved  to  take  me  in  hand. 
She  assumed  the  role  of  deceiver,  with  all  the 


256       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

wariness  of  her  family ;  her  object  being,  as  I 
suppose,  carefully  to  point  out  where  her  nest 
was  not.  She  circled  about  me,  taking  no  pains 
to  avoid  my  gaze.  Now  she  squawked  on  the 
right ;  then  she  acted  "  the  anxious  mother  "  on 
the  left;  this  time  it  was  from  the  clump  of 
rosebushes  in  front  that  she  rose  hurriedly,  as  if 
that  was  her  home ;  again  it  was  from  over  my 
head,  in  the  chokecherry-tree,  that  she  bustled 
off,  as  if  she  had  been  "  caught  in  the  act."  It 
was  a  brilliant,  a  wonderful  performance,  a 
thousand  times  more  effective  than  trailing  or 
any  of  the  similar  devices  by  which  an  uneasy 
bird  mother  draws  attention  from  her  brood.  It 
was  so  well  done  that  at  each  separate  manoeuvre 
I  could  hardly  be  convinced  by  my  own  eyes 
that  the  particular  spot  indicated  did  not  conceal 
the  little  homestead  I  was  seeking.  Several 
times  I  rose  triumphant,  feeling  sure  that  "  now 
indeed  I  do  know  where  it  is,"  and  proceeded  at 
once  to  the  bush  she  had  pointed  out  with  so 
much  simulated  reluctance,  parted  the  branches, 
and  looked  in,  only  to  find  myself  deceived  again. 
Her  acting  was  marvelous.  With  just  the  prop- 
erly anxious,  uneasy  manner,  she  would  steal 
behind  a  clump  of  leaves  into  some  retired  spot 
admirably  adapted  for  a  chat's  nest,  and  after 
a  moment  sneak  out  at  the  other  side,  and  fly 
away  near  the  ground,  exactly  as  all  bird-stu- 


THE  CHAT  TRIUMPHANT.  257 

dents  have  seen  bird  mothers  do  a  thousand 
times. 

After  this  performance  a  silence  fell  upon  the 
tangle  and  the  solitary  nook  in  which  I  sat,  — 
and  I  meditated.  It  was  the  last  day  of  my  stay. 
Should  I  set  up  a  search  for  that  nest  which  I 
was  sure  was  within  reach  ?  I  could  go  over  the 
whole  in  half  an  hour,  examine  every  shrub  and 
low  tree  and  inch  of  ground  in  it,  and  doubtless 
I  shoidd  find  it.  No  ;  I  do  not  care  for  a  nest 
thus  forced.  The  distress  of  parents,  the  panic 
of  nestlings,  give  me  no  pleasure.  I  know  how 
a  chat's  nest  looks.  I  have  seen  one  with  its 
pinky-pearl  eggs ;  why  should  I  care  to  see 
another  ?  I  know  how  young  birds  look ;  I  have 
seen  dozens  of  them  this  very  summer.  Far 
better  that  I  never  lay  eyes  upon  the  nest  than 
to  do  it  at  such  cost. 

As  I  reached  this  conclusion,  into  the  midst 
of  my  silence  came  the  steady  tramp  of  a  horse. 
I  knew  the  wild  rose  path  was  a  favorite  retreat 
from  the  sun,  and  it  was  very  hot.  The  path 
was  narrow ;  if  a  horse  came  in  upon  me,  he 
could  not  turn  round  and  retreat,  nor  was  there 
room  for  him  to  pass  me.  Realizing  all  this  in 
an  instant,  I  snatched  up  my  belongings,  and  hur- 
ried to  get  out  before  he  should  get  in. 

When  I  emerged,  the  chat  set  up  his  loudest 
and  most  triumphant  shouts.  "  Again  we  have 


258       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

fooled  you,"  he  seemed  to  say;  "•again  we  have 
thrown  your  poor  human  acuteness  off  the  scent ! 
We  shall  manage  to  bring  up  our  babies  in 
safety,  in  spite  of  you !  " 

So  indeed  they  might,  even  if  I  had  seen 
them;  but  this,  alas,  I  could  not  make  him 
understand.  So  he  treated  me  —  his  best  friend 
—  exactly  as  he  treated  the  nest-robber  and  the 
bird-shooter. 

I  shall  never  know  whether  that  nest  con- 
tained eggs  or  young  birds ;  or  whether  per- 
chance there  was  no  nest  at  all,  and  I  had  been 
deceived  from  the  first  by  the  most  artful  and 
beguiling  of  birds.  And  through  all  this  I  had 
never  once  squarely  seen  the  chat  I  had  been  fol- 
lowing. 

"  Even  yet  thon  art  to  me 
No  bird,  but  an  invisible  thing, 
A  voice,  a  mystery." 


XX. 

ON  THE   LAWN. 

THE  first  thing  that  strikes  an  Eastern  bird- 
student  in  the  Rocky  Mountain  region,  as  I 
have  already  said,  is  the  absence  of  the  birds 
he  is  familiar  with.  Instead  of  the  chipping 
sparrow  everywhere,  one  sees  the  lazuli-painted 
finch,  or  the  Rocky  Mountain  bluebird;  in 
place  of  the  American  robin's  song,  most  com- 
mon of  sounds  in  country  neighborhoods  on  the 
Atlantic  side  of  the  continent,  is  heard  the  sil- 
ver bell  of  the  towhee  bunting,  sometimes  called 
marsh  robin,  or  the  harsh  "  chack  "  of  Brewer's 
blackbird;  the  music  that  opens  sleepy  eyes  at 
daybreak  is  not  a  chorus  of  robins  and  song- 
sparrows,  but  the  ringing  notes  of  the  chewink, 
the  clear-cut  song  of  the  Western  meadow-lark, 
or  the  labored  utterance  of  the  black-headed 
grosbeak ;  it  is  not  by  the  melancholy  refrain  of 
the  whippoorwill  or  the  heavenly  hymns  of 
thrushes  that  the  approach  of  night  is  heralded, 
but  by  the  cheery  trill  of  the  house  wren  or  the 
dismal  wail  of  the  Western  wood-pewee. 

Most    of   all    does   the    bird-lover  miss   the 


260       BESIDE  TEE  GEE  AT  SALT  LAKE. 

thrushes  from  the  feathered  orchestra.  Some 
of  them  may  dwell  in  that  part  of  the  world,  — 
the  books  affirm  it,  and  I  cannot  deny  it,  —  but 
this  I  know :  one  whose  eye  is  untiring,  and 
whose  ear  is  open  night  and  day  to  bird-notes, 
may  spend  May,  June,  July,  yes,  and  even  Au- 
gust, in  the  haunts  of  Rocky  Mountain  birds, 
and  not  once  see  or  hear  either  of  our  choice 
singing  thrushes. 

However  the  student  may  miss  the  birds  he 
knows  at  home,  he  must  rejoice  in  the  absence 
of  one,  —  the  English  sparrow.  When  one  sees 
the  charming  purple  finch  and  summer  yellow- 
bird,  nesting  and  singing  in  the  streets  of 
Denver,  and  the  bewitching  Arkansas  goldfinch 
and  the  beautiful  Western  bluebird  perfectly 
at  home  in  Colorado  Springs,  he  is  reminded  of 
what  might  be  in  the  Eastern  cities,  if  only  the 
human  race  had  not  interfered  with  Nature's 
distribution  of  her  feathered  families.  In  Utah, 
indeed,  we  meet  again  the  foreigner,  for  in  that 
unfortunate  Territory  the  man,  wise  in  his  own 
conceit,  was  found  to  introduce  him,  and  Salt 
Lake,  the  city  of  their  pride  and  glory,  is  as 
completely  infested  by  the  feathered  tramp  as 
New  York  itself.  Happy  is  Colorado  that  great 
deserts  form  her  borders,  and  that  chains  of 
mountains  separate  her  from  her  neighbors; 
for,  since  the  sparrow  is  as  fond  of  the  city  as 


SHARP-WITTED  ROGUES.  261 

Dr.  Johnson,  it  may  be  hoped  that  neither  he, 
nor  his  children,  nor  his  grandchildren,  will  ever 
cross  the  barriers. 

In  Utah,  as  everywhere,  the  English  sparrows 
are  sharp-witted  rogues,  and  they  have  discov- 
ered and  taken  possession  of  the  most  comfort- 
able place  for  bird  quarters  to  be  found,  for  pro- 
tection from  the  terrible  heat  of  summer,  and 
the  wind  and  snow  of  winter  ;  it  is  between  the 
roof  and  the  stone  or  adobe  walls  of  the  houses. 
Wherever  the  inequalities  of  the  stones  or  the 
shrinkage  of  the  wood  has  left  an  opening,  and 
made  penetration  possible,  there  an  English 
sparrow  has  established  a  permanent  abode. 

The  first  bird  I  noticed  in  the  quiet  Mormon 
village  where  I  settled  myself  to  study  was  a 
little  beauty  in  blue.  I  knew  him  instantly,  for 
I  had  met  him  before  in  Colorado.  He  was 
dining  luxuriously  on  the  feathery  seeds  of  a 
dandelion  when  I  discovered  him,  and  at  no 
great  distance  was  his  olive-clad  mate,  similarly 
engaged.  They  were  conversing  cheerfully  in 
low  tones,  and  in  a  few  minutes  I  suppose  he 
called  her  attention  to  the  superior  quality  of 
his  dandelion ;  for  she  came  to  his  side,  and 
he  at  once  flew  to  a  neighboring  bush  and  burst 
into  song.  It  was  a  pretty  little  ditty,  or  rather 
a  musical  rattle  on  one  note,  resembling  the 
song  of  the  indigo  bird,  his  near  relative. 


262       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

The  lazuli-painted  finch  should  be  called  the 
blue-headed  finch,  for  the  exquisite  blueness  of 
his  whole  head,  including  throat,  breast,  and 
shoulders,  as  if  he  had  been  dipped  so  far  into 
blue  dye,  is  his  distinguishing  feature.  The 
bluebird  wears  heaven's  color ;  so  does  the  jay, 
and  likewise  the  indigo  bird ;  but  not  one  can 
boast  the  lovely  and  indescribable  shade,  with 
its  silvery  reflections,  that  adorns  the  lazuli. 
Across  the  breast,  under  the  blue,  is  a  broad 
band  of  chestnut,  like  the  breast  color  of  our 
bluebird,  and  back  of  that  is  white,  while  the 
wings  and  tail  are  dark.  Altogether,  he  is 
charming  to  look  upon.  Who  would  not  prefer 
him  about  the  yard  to  the  squawking  house 
sparrow,  or  even  the  squabbling  chippy  ? 

My  catching  the  pair  at  dinner  was  not  an 
accident ;  I  soon  found  out  that  they  lived 
there,  and  had  settled  upon  a  row  of  tall  rasp- 
berry bushes  that  separated  the  garden  from 
the  lawn  for  their  summer  home.  Madam  was 
already  at  work  collecting  her  building  materi- 
als, and  very  soon  the  fragile  walls  of  her  pretty 
nest  were  formed  in  an  upright  crotch  of  the 
raspberries,  about  a  foot  below  the  top. 

Naturally,  I  was  greatly  interested  in  the 
fairy  house  building,  and  often  inspected  the 
work  while  the  little  dame  was  out  of  sight. 
One  day,  however,  as  I  was  about  to  part  the 


BEAUTIFUL  DRAGONFLIES.  263 

brandies  to  look  in,  I  heard  an  anxious  "  phit," 
and  glanced  up  to  see  the  owner  alight  on  the 
lowest  limb  of  a  peach-tree  near  by.  Of  course 
I  turned  away  at  once,  pretending  that  I  was 
just  passing,  and  had  no  suspicion  of  her  pre- 
cious secret  in  the  raspberries,  and  hoping  that 
she  would  not  mind.  But  she  did  mind,  very 
seriously ;  she  continued  to  stand  on  that  branch 
with  an  aggrieved  air,  as  if  life  were  no  longer 
worth  living,  now  that  her  home  was  perhaps 
discovered.  Without  uttering  a  sound  or  mov- 
ing a  muscle,  so  far  as  I  could  see,  she  remained 
for  half  an  hour  before  she  accepted  my  tak- 
ing a  distant  seat  and  turning  my  attention  to 
dragonflies  as  an  apology,  and  ventured  to  visit 
her  nest  again.  After  that  I  made  very  sure 
that  she  was  engaged  elsewhere  before  I  paid 
my  daily  call. 

The  dragonflies,  by  the  way,  were  well  worth 
looking  at;  indeed,  they  divided  my  interest 
with  the  birds.  So  many  and  such  variety  I 
never  noticed  elsewhere,  and  they  acted  exactly 
like  fly -catching  birds,  staying  an  hour  at  a 
time  on  one  perch,  from  which  every  now  and 
then  they  sallied  out,  sweeping  the  air  and  re- 
turning to  the  perch  they  had  left.  Sometimes 
I  saw  four  or  five  of  them  at  once,  resting  on 
different  dead  twigs  in  the  yard  the  other  side 
of  the  lawn,  and  I  have  even  seen  one  knock 


264       BESIDE  THE  GEE  AT  SALT  LAKE. 

a  fellow-dragonfly  off  a  favorite  perch  and  take 
it  himself. 

They  were  very  beautiful,  too :  some  with 
wings  of  transparent  white  or  light  amber 
barred  off  by  wide  patches  of  rich  dark  brown 
or  black;  others,  again,  smaller,  and  all  over 
blue  as  the  lazuli's  head ;  and  a  third  of  bril- 
liant silver,  which  sparkled  as  it  flew,  as  if  cov- 
ered with  spangles.  One  alighted  there  with 
wings  which  seemed  to  be  covered  with  a  close 
and  intricate  design  in  the  most  brilliant  gold 
thread.  I  went  almost  near  enough  to  put  my 
hand  on  him,  and  I  never  saw  a  more  gorgeous 
creature ;  beside  his  beautiful  wings  his  back 
was  of  old  gold,  coming  down  in  scallops  over 
the  black  and  dark  blue  under  part. 

In  due  time  four  lovely  blue  eggs  filled  the 
nest  of  the  lazuli,  and  about  the  middle  of  June 
madam  began  to  sit,  and  I  had  to  be  more  care- 
ful than  ever  in  timing  my  visits. 

Some  birds  approach  their  nest  in  a  loitering, 
aimless  sort  of  way,  as  if  they  had  no  particular 
business  in  that  quarter,  and,  if  they  see  any 
cause  for  alarm,  depart  with  an  indifferent  air 
that  reveals  nothing  of  their  secret.  Not  thus 
the  ingenuous  lazuli.  She  showed  her  anxiety 
every  moment ;  coming  in  the  most  businesslike 
way,  and  proclaiming  her  errand  to  the  most 
careless  observer,  till  I  thought  every  boy  on 


A  RAPTUROUS  MORNING  SONG.        265 

the  street  would  know  where  her  eggs  were  to 
be  found.  She  had  a  very  pretty  way  of  going 
to  the  nest;  indeed,  all  her  manners  were  win- 
ning. She  always  alighted  on  the  peach-tree 
branch,  looked  about  on  all  sides,  especially  at 
me  in  my  seat  on  the  piazza,  flirted  her  tail, 
uttered  an  anxious  "  phit,"  and  then  jumped  off 
the  limb  and  dived  under  the  bushes  near  the 
ground.  It  is  to  be  presumed  that  she  ascended 
to  her  nest  behind  the  leaves  by  hopping  from 
twig  to  twig,  though  this  I  could  never  manage 
to  see. 

And  what  of  her  gay  little  spouse  all  this 
time  ?  Did  he  spend  his  days  cheering  her  with 
music,  as  all  the  fathers  of  feathered  families 
are  fabled  to  do  ?  Indeed  he  did  not,  and  until 
I  watched  very  closely,  and  saw  him  going  about 
over  the  poplars  in  silence,  I  thought  he  had 
left  the  neighborhood.  Once  in  the  day  he  had 
a  good  singing  time,  about  five  o'clock  in  the 
morning,  two  hours  before  the  sun  rose  over  the 
mountains.  If  one  happened  to  be  awake  then, 
he  would  hear  the  most  rapturous  song,  deliv- 
ered at  the  top  of  his  voice,  and  continuing  for 
a  long  time.  But  as  it  grew  lighter,  and  the 
human  world  began  to  stir,  he  became  quiet 
again,  and,  if  he  sang  at  all,  he  went  so  far 
from  home  that  I  did  not  hear  him. 

But  the  wise  little  blue-head  had  not  deserted; 


266       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

he  was  merely  cautious.  Every  time  that  the 
little  sitter  went  off  for  food  she  met  him  some- 
where, and  he  came  back  with  her.  Occasion- 
ally he  took  a  peep  at  the  treasures  himself,  but 
he  never  entered  by  her  roundabout  way.  He 
always  flew  directly  in  from  above. 

Ten  days  passed  away  in  this  quiet  manner, 
my  attention  divided  between  the  birds,  the 
dragonflies,  and  the  clacking  grasshopper,  who 
went  jerking  himself  about  with  a  noise  like  a 
subdued  lawn-mower,  giving  one  the  impression 
that  his  machinery  was  out  of  order. 

The  tenth  day  of  sitting  we  had  a  south  wind. 
That  does  not  seem  very  terrible,  but  a  south 
wind  on  the  shore  of  the  Great  Salt  Lake  is 
something  to  be  dreaded. 

"  A  -wind  that  is  dizzy  with  whirling  play, 
A  dozen  winds  that  have  lost  their  way." 

It  starts  up  suddenly,  and  comes  with  such  force 
as  to  snap  off  the  leaves  of  trees,  and  even  the 
tender  twigs  of  shrubs.  As  it  waxes  powerful 
it  bends  great  trees,  and  tries  the  strength  of 
roofs  and  chimneys.  From  the  first  breath  it 
rolls  up  tremendous  clouds  of  dust,  that  come 
and  come,  and  never  cease,  long  after  it  seems 
as  if  every  particle  in  that  rainless  land  must 
have  been  driven  by.  It  is  in  the  "  Great 
Basin,"  and  the  south  wind  is  the  broom  that 
sweeps  it  clean.  Not  only  dust  does  the  south 


THE  BABIES'  BIRTHDAY.  267 

wind  bring,  but  heat,  terrible  and  suffocating, 
like  that  of  a  fiery  furnace.  Before  it  the  hu- 
man and  the  vegetable  worlds  shrink  and  wither, 
and  birds  and  beasts  are  little  seen. 

Such  a  day  was  the  birthday  in  the  little  nest 
in  the  raspberries,  and  on  my  usual  morning 
call  I  found  four  featherless  birdlings,  with 
beaks  already  yawning  for  food.  Every  morn- 
ing, of  course,  I  looked  at  the  babies,  but  it  was 
not  till  the  eighth  day  of  their  life  that  I  found 
their  eyes  open.  Before  this  they  opened  their 
mouths  when  I  jarred  the  nest  in  parting  the 
branches,  thus  showing  they  were  not  asleep, 
but  did  not  open  their  eyes,  and  I  was  forced  to 
conclude  that  they  were  not  yet  unclosed. 

Sometimes  the  daily  visit  was  made  under 
difficulties,  and  I  was  unpleasantly  surprised 
when  I  stepped  upon  the  grass  of  the  little  lawn 
that  I  was  obliged  to  cross.  The  grass  looked 
as  usual;  the  evening  before  we  had  been  sit- 
ting upon  it.  But  all  night  a  stream  had  been 
silently  spreading  itself  upon  it,  and  my  hasty 
step  was  into  water  two  or  three  inches  deep, 
which  swished  up  in  a  small  fountain  and  filled 
a  low  shoe  in  an  instant. 

This  is  one  of  the  idiosyncrasies  of  irrigation, 
which  it  seemed  I  should  never  get  accustomed 
to,  and  several  times  I  was  obliged  to  turn  back 
for  overshoes  before  I  could  pay  my  usual  call. 


268       BESIDE  THE  GEE  AT  SALT  LAKE. 

A  lawn  asoak  is  a  curious  sight,  and  always  re- 
minds me  of  Lanier's  verses, 

"A  thousand  rivulets  run 

'Twixt  the  roots  of  the  soil ;  the  blades  of  the  marsh  grass 
stir; 

....    and  the  currents  cease  to  run, 
And  the  sea  and  the  marsh  are  one." 

The  morning  the  lazulis  were  ten  days  old, 
before  I  came  out  of  the  house,  that  happened 
which  so  often  puts  an  end  to  a  study  of  bird 
life,  —  the  nest  was  torn  out  of  place  and  de- 
stroyed, and  the  little  family  had  disappeared. 
The  particulars  will  never  be  known.  Whether 
a  nest-robbing  boy  or  a  hungry  cat  was  the  trans- 
gressor, and  whether  the  nestlings  were  carried 
off  or  eaten,  or  had  happily  escaped,  who  can  tell? 
I  could  only  judge  by  the  conduct  of  the  birds 
themselves,  and  as  they  did  not  appear  disturbed, 
and  continued  to  carry  food,  it  is  to  be  presumed 
that  part,  if  not  all,  of  the  brood  was  saved  from 
the  wreck  of  their  home. 

Happily,  to  console  me  in  my  sorrow  for  this 
catastrophe,  the  lazuli  was  not  the  only  bird  to 
be  seen  on  the  lawn,  though  his  was  the  only 
nest.  I  had  for  some  time  been  greatly  inter- 
ested in  the  daily  visits  of  a  humming-bird,  a 
little  dame  in  green  and  white,  who  had  taken 
possession  of  a  honeysuckle  vine  beside  the 
door,  claiming  the  whole  as  her  own,  and  driv- 


BLOOMS  AND  BUZZINGS.  269 

ing  away,  with  squeaky  but  fierce  cries,  any 
other  of  her  race  who  ventured  to  sip  from  the 
coral  cups  so  profusely  offered. 

The  season  for  humming-birds  opened  with 
the  locust  blossoms  next  door,  which  were  for 
days  a  mass  of  blooms  and  buzzings,  of  birds 
and  bees.  But  when  the  fragrant  flowers  began 
to  fall  and  the  ground  was  white  with  them, 
one  bird  settled  herself  on  our  honeysuckle,  and 
there  took  her  daily  meals  for  a  month.  Being 
not  six  feet  from  where  I  sat  for  hours  every 
day,  I  had  the  first  good  opportunity  of  my  life 
to  learn  the  ways  of  one  of  these  queer  little 
creatures  in  feathers. 

After  long  searching  and  much  overhauling 
of  the  books,  I  made  her  out  to  be  the  female 
broad-tailed  humming-bird,  who  is  somewhat 
larger  than  the  familiar  ruby-throat  of  the  East. 
Her  mate,  if  she  had  one,  never  came  to  the 
vine  ;  but  whether  she  drove  him  away  and  dis- 
couraged him,  or  whether  he  had  an  indepen- 
dent source  of  supply,  I  never  knew.  She  was 
the  only  one  whose  acquaintance  I  made,  and  in 
a  month's  watching  I  came  to  know  her  pretty 
well. 

In  one  way  she  differed  strikingly  from  any 
humming-bird  I  have  seen :  she  alighted,  and 
rested  frequently  and  for  long  periods.  Droll 
enough  it  looked  to  see  such  an  atom,  such  a 


270       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE. 

mere  pinch  of  feathers,  conduct  herself  after  the 
fashion  of  a  big  bird ;  to  see  her  wipe  that  needle- 
like  beak,  and  dress  those  infinitesimal  feathers, 
combing  out  her  head  plumage  with  her  minute 
black  claws,  running  the  same  useful  append- 
ages through  her  long,  gauzy-looking  wings,  and 
carefully  removing  the  yellow  pollen  of  the 
honeysuckle  blooms  which  stuck  to  her  face 
and  throat.  Her  favorite  perch  was  a  tiny  dead 
twig  on  the  lowest  branch  of  a  poplar-tree,  near 
the  honeysuckle.  There  she  spent  a  long  time 
each  day,  sitting  usually,  though  sometimes  she 
stood  on  her  little  wiry  legs. 

But  though  my  humming  friend  might  sit 
down,  there  was  no  repose  about  her ;  she  was 
continually  in  motion.  Her  head  turned  from 
side  to  side,  as  regularly,  and  apparently  as  me- 
chanically, as  an  elephant  weaves  his  great  head 
and  trunk.  Sometimes  she  turned  her  attention 
to  me,  and  leaned  far  over,  with  her  large,  dark 
eyes  fixed  upon  me  with  interest  or  curiosity. 
But  never  was  there  the  least  fear  in  her  bear- 
ing ;  she  evidently  considered  herself  mistress  of 
the  place,  and  reproved  me  if  I  made  the  slight- 
est movement,  or  spoke  too  much  to  a  neighbor. 
If  she  happened  to  be  engaged  among  her  honey- 
pots  when  a  movement  was  made,  she  instantly 
jerked  herself  back  a  foot  or  more  from  the  vine, 
and  stood  upon  nothing,  as  it  were,  motionless, 


A  HUMMING-BIRD' >S   TOILET.  271 

except  the  wings,  while  she  looked  into  the  cause 
of  the  disturbance,  and  often  expressed  her  dis- 
approval of  our  behavior  in  squeaky  cries. 

The  toilet  of  this  lilliputian  in  feathers,  per- 
formed on  her  chosen  twig  as  it  often  was,  inter- 
ested me  greatly.  As  carefully  as  though  she 
were  a  foot  or  two,  instead  of  an  inch  or  two 
long,  did  she  clean  and  put  in  order  every  plume 
on  her  little  body,  and  the  work  of  polishing 
her  beak  was  the  great  performance  of  the  day. 
This  member  was  plainly  her  pride  and  her  joy ; 
every  part  of  it,  down  to  the  very  tip,  was 
scraped  and  rubbed  by  her  claws,  with  the  leg 
thrown  over  the  wing,  exactly  as  big  birds  do. 
It  was  astonishing  to  see  what  she  could  do 
with  her  leg.  I  have  even  seen  her  pause  in 
mid-air  and  thrust  one  over  her  vibrating  wing 
to  scratch  her  head. 

Then  when  the  pretty  creature  was  all  in 
beautiful  order,  her  emerald  -  green  back  and 
white  breast  immaculate,  when  she  had  shaken 
herself  out,  and  darted  out  and  drawn  back 
many  times  her  long  bristle -like  tongue,  she 
would  sometimes  hover  along  before  the  tips  of 
the  fence-stakes,  which  were  like  laths,  held  an 
inch  apart  by  wires,  —  collecting,  I  suppose,  the 
tiny  spiders  which  were  to  be  found  there.  She 
always  returned  to  the  honeysuckle,  however,  to 
finish  her  repast,  opening  and  closing  her  tail 


272       BESIDE  THE  GREAT  SALT  LAKE, 

as  one  flirts  a  fan,  while  the  breeze  made  by 
her  wings  agitated  the  leaves  for  two  feet 
around  her.  Should  a  blossom  just  ready  to 
fall  come  off  011  her  beak  like  a  coral  case,  as 
it  sometimes  did,  she  was  indignant  indeed ;  she 
jerked  herself  back  and  flung  it  off  with  an  air 
that  was  comical  to  see. 

When  the  hot  wind  blew,  the  little  creature 
seemed  to  feel  the  discomfort  that  bigger  ones 
did :  she  sat  with  open  beak  as  though  panting 
for  breath ;  she  flew  around  with  legs  hanging, 
and  even  alighted  on  a  convenient  leaf  or  cluster 
of  flowers,  while  she  rifled  a  blossom,  standing 
with  sturdy  little  legs  far  apart,  while  stretching 
up  to  reach  the  bloom  she  desired. 

Two  statements  of  the  books  were  not  true  in 
the  case  of  this  bird :  she  did  not  sit  on  a  twig 
upright  like  an  owl  or  a  hawk,  but  held  her 
body  exactly  as  does  a  robin  or  sparrow;  and 
she  did  fly  backward  and  sideways,  as  well  as 
forward. 

Toward  the  end  of  June  my  tiny  visitor  be- 
gan to  make  longer  intervals  between  her  calls, 
and  when  she  did  appear  she  was  always  in  too 
great  haste  to  stop ;  she  passed  rapidly  over  half 
a  dozen  blossoms,  and  then  flitted  away.  Past 
were  the  days  of  loitering  about  on  poplar  twigs 
or  preening  herself  on  the  peach-tree.  It  was 
plain  that  she  had  set  up  a  home  for  herself, 


THE  LAST  APPEARANCE.  273 

and  the  mussy  state  of  her  once  nicely  kept 
breast  feathers  told  the  tale,  —  she  had  a  nest 
somewhere.  Vainly,  however,  did  I  try  to  track 
her  home  :  she  either  took  her  way  like  an  arrow 
across  the  garden  to  a  row  of  very  tall  locusts, 
where  a  hundred  humming-birds'  nests  might 
have  been  hidden,  or  turned  the  other  way  over 
a  neighbor's  field  to  a  cluster  of  thickly  grown 
apple-trees,  equally  impossible  to  search.  If  she 
had  always  gone  one  way  I  might  have  tried  to 
follow,  but  to  look  for  her  infinitesimal  nest  at 
opposite  poles  of  the  earth  was  too  discouraging, 
even  if  the  weather  had  been  cool  enough  for 
such  exertion. 

When  at  last  I  could  endure  the  wind  and 
the  dust  and  the  heat  no  longer,  and  stood  one 
morning  on  the  porch,  waiting  for  the  most  de- 
liberate of  drivers  with  his  carriage  to  drive  me 
to  the  station,  that  I  might  leave  Utah  altogether, 
the  humming-bird  appeared  on  the  scene,  took  a 
sip  or  two  out  of  her  red  cups,  flirted  her  feath- 
ers saucily  in  my  very  face,  then  darted  over 
the  top  of  the  cottage  and  disappeared ;  and  that 
was  the  very  last  glimpse  I  had  of  the  little 
dame  in  green. 


INDEX. 


Acadian  flycatcher,  161. 
Arkansas  goldfinch,  23. 
At  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  95. 

Blue  jay  with  a  stranger.  148. 
with  catbirds,  150. 
Blue  jay,  the  young  : 

accident  to,  140. 

Barbed  wire  fence,  157. 

beauty  of,  143. 

Behind  the  tangle,  246. 

climber,  141. 

Birds  : 

first  outing,  138. 

and  poets,  194. 

imperfect,  152. 

a  strange  song,  73. 

intelligence  in  house,  152. 

different  ways,  264. 
hard  to  study,  20. 

on  edge  of  nest,  137. 
returned  to  parents,  153. 

in  Colorado,  18. 

Bobolink  song,  120. 

in  Colorado  Springs,  260. 

Burro  an  investigator,  89. 

in  Denver,  260. 

in  the    "  Wrens'  Court,"   161, 

Camp  Harding,  9. 

166,  168. 
leave  nesting  place,  154. 

Camping  in  Colorado,  3. 
Canon  wren,  the,  74. 

morning  chorus,  21.  22,  105. 

manners,  86,  87. 

music  in  Colorado,  32. 

song,  74. 

not  on  exhibition,  19. 

Cardinal  grosbeak,  107. 

not  sing  alike,  34. 

abandoning  the  nest,  120. 

panic  among,  39. 
unfamiliar,  23,  259. 

as  a  father,  113. 
confidence  in  people,  121. 

Utah,  260. 

delight  of  parents,  123. 

Black-headed  grosbeak,  244,  251. 

eating  corn,  109,  115. 

song  of,  244. 

importance  of  the  builder,  119. 

Blue  jay,  126. 

kindness  to  young,  117. 

and  doll,  103. 

manners,  107. 

and     red-headed    woodpecker, 

nest,  122. 

104. 
apple-tree  nest,  151. 

on  grass,  105,  107. 
politeness  to  mate,  116. 

a  struggle,  149. 

reception  of  woodpecker,  108. 

attentive  to  mate,  127. 

rose  trellis  nest,  121. 

bad  name,  147. 

speeding  the  parting  guest,  125. 

devoted  mother,  127. 
eating,  144. 

victim  of  English  sparrow,  114. 
Cardinal,  the  young,  113. 

getting  over  the  ground,  145. 

characteristics,  114. 

home  deserted,  140. 

first  baby  out,  122. 

interview  with,  146. 

food  of,  123. 

joke  or  war-cry  ?  134. 

song  of,  116. 

manners,  130,  132,  144. 

training,  116. 

my  search  for  nest,  126. 

with  sparrows,  114,  115. 

no  pretense,  130. 
pine-tree  nest,  126. 

Carolina  wren,  the  great  : 
babies  appear,  172. 

vocabulary,  133. 
when  babies  are  noisy,  131. 

ceremony  of  approaching,  177. 
father  disturbed,  175. 

276 


INDEX. 


Carolina  wren,  first  sight  of,  159. 

Colorado,  the  wonderland,  14. 

fighting  a  chipmunk,  178. 
hard  to  see,  177. 

Cotton  storm,  a,  17. 
Cottonwoods,  in  the,  17. 

interruption  to  study,  168. 

Cuckoo,  157,  231. 

manners,  163,  173,  175. 

mother  anxious,  176. 

Doll  as  a  bogy,  103. 

nest,  149,  182. 

Dragonflies  in  Utah,  263. 

song,  162,  164. 
trailing,  162. 

English  or  house  sparrow  : 
as  a  climber,  110. 

"  Wrens'  Court,  160. 

autocrat,  129. 

Carolina  wren,  the  young  : 

in  Utah,  261. 

cries  of,  181. 

robbing  blackbirds,  100. 

delay  in  taking  flight,  179. 

robbing  red-headed  woodpeck- 

development of,  174. 

er,  110. 

first  sallies,  180,  181. 

Feast  of  flowers,  the,  52. 

manners,  178. 

Flicker  a  character,  106. 

Catbird  song,  23. 

Flowers  : 

Cat  on  lawn,  112. 

abundance  of  bloom,  54. 

Cedar-tree  little  folk,  194. 

anemone,  61. 

Charming  nook,  a,  124. 

cactus,  56,  62,  74. 

Chat,  long-tailed,   yellow-breasted, 

castilleia,  67. 

40,  232. 

cleorne,  67. 

alertness  of,  240. 

columbine,  58,  67. 

bewitching,  241. 

cyclamen,  67. 

comes  in  sight,  237. 

extermination  by  cattle,  208. 

eccentric,  232. 

extermination  by  tourists,  68. 

egg  stolen,  50. 
farewell,  51. 

geranium,  58. 
gilia,  64. 

first  sight  of,  45. 
hard  to  study,  47. 
haunts  of,  241. 

golden  prince's  feather,  65. 
gummy  and  clinging  stems,  6^ 
harebells,  67. 

home  of,  246. 

in  a  niche,  73. 

humor,  40. 

in  Kansas,  52. 

manners,  44,  46,  238,  239,  240. 

/      mariposa  lily,  65. 

nest,  47,  48. 

mentzelia,  60. 

on  hand,  245. 

mertensia,  67. 

saucy,  41. 

Mexican  poppy,  62. 

secret  of  invisibility,  239. 

milky  juice,  66. 

studies  me,  254, 
triumphant,  257. 

moccasin  plant,  54,  75. 
nasturtium,  self-willed,  14ft 

voice,  40,  43,  45,  236,  237,  239. 
Chat,  the  madam  : 

ox-eye  daisy,  66. 
painter  of,  68. 

interviews  me,  255. 

paradise  of,  53. 

keeps  her  mate  up  to  duty,  249. 

pentstemon,  58. 

manners,  248. 

pink  stranger,  62. 

squawks,  254. 

primrose,  58,  67. 

wonderful  acting,  256. 

roses,  58,  63,  75. 

Chewink,  or  towhee  bunting  : 

spiderwort,  52. 

babies,  31. 
green-tailed  towhee,  210. 

symphony  in  green,  55. 
varieties,  53,  57. 

husky  cry,  30. 

vetches,  67. 

manners,  28,  29. 

wild  garden,  57. 

nest,  30. 

wild  mignonette,  62. 

song,  29. 
Cheyenne  Canon,  15. 
solitary  possession  of,  75. 
Cheyenne  Mountain,  43. 
Chipmunk,  78. 
Cinderella  among  the  flowers,  a,  60. 

yellow  daisies,  52. 
yucca,  55,  62. 

Gates,  idiosyncrasies  of,  220. 
Getting  up  in  the  morning,  95. 
Glen,  a  beautiful,  155. 

Cliff-dwellers  in  the  canon,  70. 
Colorado,  a  restful  way  to  see,  13. 

frightened  out  of,  169. 
Grasshopper,  a  clacking,  266. 

INDEX. 


277 


Grave  of  "  H.  H.,"  90,  91. 

Magpie  : 

Great-crested  flycatcher,  167. 

nest,  223. 

Gull,  the  herring,  211. 

nursery,  230. 

following  the  plow,  213. 
flight,  215. 

reception  to  us,  227. 
search  for  nest,  216. 

manners,  213. 
nesting,  216. 

song,  224. 
Meadow-lark,  the  Western,  249, 

nooning,  215. 

cry,  120. 

penalty  for  killing,  212. 

song,  24,  32,  34. 

sent  to  the  "Chosen  People," 

Morning  tramp,  a,  156. 

212. 

Mosquito,  absence  of,  20. 

value  of,  216. 

a  lonely,  21. 

Mourning  dove,  103. 

Horned  lark  : 

headquarters,  199. 

horns,  36. 

joke  of,  200. 

nest,  3C. 

manners,  196,  198,  199. 

song,  35. 

nest,  198. 

Horse,  a  scared,  and  result,  228. 

silence  of,  201,  204. 

drive  me  away,  257. 
House  wren,  the  Western.  24. 

song,  195,  204. 
talk,  204. 

babies,  27,  28. 

wing  whistle,  204. 

disturbed,  27. 

young,  interview  with,  201. 

manners,  24. 

young,  manners  of,  197,  201. 

nest,  25. 

song,  27. 

Oak-brush,  the,  222. 

strange  cry,  25. 

On  the  lawn,  259. 

Humming-bird  : 

Orchard,  an  old,  250. 

collecting  spiders,  271. 

Orchard  oriole  : 

different  from  the  Eastern.  38. 

a  later  view,  191. 

dislike  of  heat,  272. 
in  canon,  76. 

anxiety  of  parents,  185. 
baby  cries,  186. 

last  glimpse,  273. 

babies'  first  flight,  189,  190. 

manners,  269. 

call  from  a  Baltimore,  188. 

nesting,  272. 

called  by  nestlings,  184. 

noisy,  38. 

manners,  186,  190. 

precious  beak,  271. 

nest,  184,  192. 

scolding,  42. 

song  of  female,  191. 

surveillance,  40. 

song  of  male,  192. 

the  broad-tailed,  268. 

toilet  of,  271. 

Park,  a  deserted,  42. 

Pewee,  Western  wood,  22. 

Ideal  retreat,  an,  247. 

nest,  38. 

In  a,  pasture,  207. 

song,  22,  37. 

In  the  Middle  Country,  93. 

voice,  37. 

In  the  Rocky  Mountains,  1. 
Irrigation  vagaries,  242,  245,  267. 

Purple  grackle,  the,  96. 
discouraging  them,  104. 

eating,  100. 

Kansas,  7. 
Kitchen,  an  al  fresco,  243. 

greeting  to  me,  97. 
husky  tones,  98. 

Kitten,  a  lost,  39. 

humor,  99. 

no  repose  of  manner,  101. 

Lazuli-painted  finch,  261. 
anxiety  of  mother,  263. 

plumage,  99. 
robbed  by  sparrows,  100. 

babies,  267. 

strange  utterances,  98. 

manners,  262,  265. 

treatment  of  young,  101. 

nest,  262. 

young,  98,  101,  102. 

nest  destroyed,  268. 

young,  persistence  of,  102. 

Magpie  : 
discover  us,  225. 

Red-headed  woodpecker  : 
autocrat,  106. 

manners,  216,  219,  224. 

eating  corn,  109. 

278 


INDEX. 


Red-headed  woodpecker  : 

Tents  to  live  in,  11. 

protecting  the  place,  110. 
treatment  of  cardinal  grosbeak, 
108. 
treatment  of  doll,  104. 

Thrushes  absent,  260. 
Tourist,  89,  91. 
Tourist,  the  unscrupulous,  68. 
Towhee  (see  Chewink). 

Kest,  to  find,  3,  4,  5,  6,  11 

Tragedy  of  a  nest,  42. 

Robin,  absence  of,  28. 

and  corn,  103. 

Uproar  of  song,  an,  32. 

and  doll,  103. 

not  plentiful,  250. 

Vagaries  of  name-givers,  160. 

reception  of  snake,  250. 

View,  a  beautiful,  136. 

Rocky  Mountains  : 

a  pasture  on,  207. 

Walks  from  the  camp,  70. 

Cheyenne  range,  235. 

the  evening,  70. 

Wasatch  range,  233,  234. 

the  morning,  72. 

up  to  the  canon,  72. 

Sage-bush,  233. 
Sage    the    delight    of    my    friend, 

Water  ouzel,  or  American  dipper  : 
baby,  80,  85. 

234. 
Salt  Lake,  view  of  ,  218. 

cry,  79. 
"  dipping,"  80. 

Secret    of    the    Wild    Rose    Path, 

feats  in  the  water,  83. 

231. 

manners,  80,  81. 

Seven  Sisters'  Falls,  72. 

nest,  77. 

Sight-seeing  travelers,  12. 
South  wind,  266. 

song,  79,  81. 
the  mother,  82. 

Strange     character     of     feathered 

Wood-thrush  nest,  168. 

world,  128. 

Strangers  not  allowed,  129. 
Study  of  birds,  my  way,  226. 
Study  of  birds,  two  ways,  236. 

Yellow  warbler  : 
nest,  36,  37. 
song,  23,  36. 

Date  Due 


CAT.    NO.   24    161 


•lip 

A    000  855  795     1 


